


Guardian

by IvaChism



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvaChism/pseuds/IvaChism
Summary: It is when she is at her weakest, most vulnerable point in her life that she is given a guardian, ever present. HunterxOC





	1. Chapter 1

Josie's body shuddered violently, trembling against the gusting winds accompanying the pouring rain. Her clothes were heavy with water and hung from her small frame, impeding her already halting progress.

With one palm sliding against the wall of a building, she slowly navigated her way through the pitch dark night with only the flashes of lightning to illuminate her way. Her thoughts were frantic and every trembling step filled her with dread.

As Josie paused, waiting for the next strike of lightning, she strained her ears, listening for any unnatural sounds, though the thunder broiling above made that nearly impossible. She knew that one of these buildings had to be it. Before embarking on her journey, she had studied her route vigorously, then studied it some more, until it was as familiar to her as breathing. She hadn't accounted for the thunderstorm, for the sky had not given her even a hint of a warning. At least, not one that she could interpret. And now she was stranded, in pitch darkness, traversing through a frigid storm.

The thunder ceased growling for only a moment. The falling drops could have been misconstrued as peaceful without the rattling booms of thunder to accompany their fall.

And then she heard it, the softest caress of a sound that vibrated through the air.

A growl.

Terror paralyzed Josie's body. Her mind raced.

Fighting tooth and nail against the ingrained instinct to freeze, she rocked back on her heel before sprinting forward in a mad dash. Her drenched boots were cumbersome and she knew her sloshing footsteps were loud though she could only hear the pounding of her racing heart. She refused to slow down though, nor to look back at what was surely giving chase.

Another crack of lightning struck, not far from where she was, and the blinding light revealed a narrow alleyway. A sob tore through her throat as she ran, for there at the end was a door with bars welded to it and sporting a red coat of paint. The safe room.

She reached the door in record time and fumbled with the slick metal as she tore it open and dashed inside. Throwing it closed with her shoulder she fumbled in the darkness, searching for the bar that would lock it in place. Her fluttering fingers finally alighted over chilled steel and she threw it closed with a passion.

Her laborious breaths echoed in the still room, the raging storm now muted to a more bearable decibel. She scrambled from the door when a thud rang against it not seconds later. The metal shook under the tremendous force but held strong. Another thud, followed by another continued to fill the room. She fell against the wall on the opposite side of the room, and stared at the door as it continued to rattle under the monotonous assault. Whatever was on the other side continued to ram its body against the door in a steady rhythm. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Her mind raced with the worry that the sound would bring the attention of something that could actually bring the door down, but there was no way she could deter her visitor without getting herself killed in the process. She trembled violently, not only from terror but from the cold. It was March, and though it usually wasn't too unbearably cold this time of year the rain had brought gusting, frigid winds that tore through her.

When the door proved sturdy against the continued assault, the woman raised from her crouched position. She needed to get warm, the incessant shivering was steadily draining her of any energy she might still have- taking away the precious few calories that she'd fought so hard for.

Her knapsack hit the ground, followed by every piece of sopping wet cloth that adorned her. Her emaciated figure was revealed, her ribs showing plainly through paper thin skin and hip bones jutting sharply outwards. Life on the road was unkind to her,and its inhabitants less than forgiving.

Food was scarce, after so many years after the end of the world. Blindly searching though the small room, painfully aware of the steady assault against the door, she let her hands guide her. When cloth greeted her fingertips she nearly sobbed with joy. The fabric turned out to be a stiff towel, the coarse kind that could be found at cheap motels. But it felt like Egyptian cotton to her worn and beaten senses. Such a small comfort, though it made her nearly weep. Too weary to continue her blind search, she swaddled her slight form in the towel and once more hunkered against the wall opposite the door, tucking the coarse towel's folds around her trembling body. She mentally prepared herself for another sleepless night, hoping that if she was quiet enough, the thing would forget she was here and leave her alone.

Morning came with a throbbing headache. Josie imagined this is what a hangover would feel like, though she'd never had the chance to have one. The outbreak had hit before her bravery to take on alcohol had, and to drink now was a death wish.

The sun always seems to shine brightest after a storm, and usually she'd appreciate the aesthetic of the golden rays chasing away the shadows of the night. But she was exhausted. That thing, whatever it was, had beaten at her door through the entire night. The moment the clouds had begun to glow a soft amber, though, the racket had ceased quite suddenly.

The following silence was the sweetest thing she'd heard all week.

For hours she had sat staring at the door in near constant terror as she waited for that one slam that would bring her barrier crashing down. And now she sat, slumped against the wall and staring at the grasping rays of light with a special kind of dislike. For a half hour she sat like that, half in a daze as her mind wandered, so exhausted that her body refused to do much else. But the chattering and singing of a few birds outside brought her out of her reverie and she got to work. She methodically searched the entire room, finding only dust bunnies and walls covered in words meant for loved ones, words that didn't mean anything to her anymore where once they'd brought her sadness.

It was rare she found anything that was of value in these rooms anymore. Josie remembered when she was with her pack of five survivors, they'd go from safe room to safe room, which were loaded to the brim with varieties of ammunition and arsenal, taking all they could carry. Those were better times, only months after the outbreak.

On finding nothing of value, she was forced to put her clothes, still damp and smelling of sweet rain, back on. Within only a few minutes, she was ready to leave her shelter. She had to pry the metal bar off the door, for it was bent at an odd angle from the abuse it'd been through. She thanked lady luck for allowing the barrier to stay strong. Opening the door was scary in itself, and she was mildly impressed that she still had the capability to be scared. The red paint was scratched off in many places, like a cat had had a field day with a fluffy sofa. Dents the size of her head littered the surface and served as yet another reminder of how close to death she had been.

A common occurrence.

Whatever it had been, it was strong, and had a mean set of claws. Perhaps a type of zombie she's yet to encounter? Briefly taking note of her surroundings, she set out once more.

They were less common nowadays, several years after the outbreak of a flu that targeted the brain. It made people mad, raving lunatics programmed only for aggression. At the time, she had been in her senior year of high school. Her only worries were of finals and prom. The flu was simply that, a flu, and was the most distant of her worries. But it had hit, and it had hit hard. Within a week her world was crumpled and thrown away like paper ball, almost laughable how quick the human empire had fallen. But those unaffected hadn't fallen easily, and years later there were those who still fought on. She was one of those few. She should have been graduating college this year. She liked to think she wasn't bitter, but when she thought of all the simplicities of life she was denied, a tangle of anger consumes her.

She had observed that the flu seems to not only make its host aggressive to the point of eating whatever crosses its path, but it changes the affected's physical appearance and structure. Some simply began to rot, the literal walking dead. But others, like some insane case of super heroes, were given abilities beyond reason. She kept a journal in her bag of the different, unique types she had encountered. Some spat up acid, others preferred to aim bile at its victims. She had even encountered one with a tongue that seemed to be forty feet long, with the ability to wrap around its victims. The appearance of that one had resulted in a few sleepless nights for her. Luckily, they were incredibly rare, and she hasn't seen one in months.

Josie had read on the walls of the safe houses she bunked in, more tales of these enhanced humans. One survivor called them special infected, and she found that rather suiting. That had to have been what was outside of the room the entire night. A special infected. The normal, more common walking dead ones, the virus rotted their mind. Their stupidity made them easy to fool and rendered them easily distracted. They would have left her door in the first minute without any stimulation to keep them there. This one is different. Intelligent. Predatory. The special infected could still be lurking, though she felt relatively confident that the appearance of the sun was the reason behind its disappearance. She continued onward, just like she always has.

Josie was balancing on the curb of the street as she walked south, her arms outstretched for balance. She wasn't being silly or stupidly ignorant; just bored. The sun beat down on her, several times stronger after the rain storm. She briefly pondered searching for a ball cap soon, to shade her eyes. Her senses, finely tuned from her many years of survival, picked up on a shuffling to her right.

Pausing she peered into the dimly lit alleyway.

A woman appeared quite suddenly, lurching forward at a dead sprint, gurgling snarls ripping from her throat like she couldn't get the sounds out fast enough. The survivor tensed and pulled a knife the size of her forearm from its sheath strapped to her thigh. She dodged the crazed woman's initial attack, side stepping easily and stomping on the woman's ankle as she moved. With an audible pop the foot rested unnaturally on its side, the sole of its foot facing to the sky. But the dead feel no pain and the woman quickly turned back around, stumbling on the hindrance that was her dragging foot. It reached once more for her, but with one hand holding its struggling body at arm's length, she plunged the knife into its head with the other. It dropped like a sack of potatoes, gravity pulling its head from her knife with a wet schlep. Leaning down, she cleaned the gore off on the woman's clothes and re-sheathed it. She continued walking.

*** ***

Y'all like Josie? She's a badass, huh? ;)

I don't expect this to be truly popular, seeing as the fandom is rather old. But who knows! If anyone is out there, let me know in the reviews and I'll post another chapter.

What, oh what could have been knocking on her chamber door? I wonder... lol.

-iva


	2. Chapter 2

The little restaurant Josie stumbles upon is based on a 60's diner, complete with checkerboard tile and red upholstery. Posters of a smoldering James Dean and a pouting Marilyn Monroe are plastered about the walls, accompanied by random rims of old cars. After a cursory sweep for any unwanted visitors, Josie trudges to one of the red stools lining the bar, setting her bag atop the counter then sitting. The plump leather creaking below her and, to her delight, the seat spins.

She leans over the counter, swaying in her seat, to find a skeleton, long since picked clean and sprawled across the floor next to an industrial metal sink. It still wears a pink frilly dress, complete with an apron stained with old blood and a name tag.

"Donna," Josie acknowledges, fighting the flinch that instinctually shakes her muscles. The sound of her voice is surprising. She can't quite remember the last time she heard it. Last week? Or last year?

"Donna, I'll take a coke. Diet, of course." She gestures to her emaciated waist, where her tank top and leather jacket hang off of her. "I'm trying to watch my weight. You know what I mean, don't you." Josie says knowingly. Donna's ghastly grin answers her. "Actually, screw it. I'll take a milkshake, with extra whipped cream. And not one cherry. I'm talking three... and a burger. Fat and juicy and medium rare. Ketchup… and fries…crispy…" Josie groans and drops her head into her arms. "I really shouldn't do this to myself." Her stomach gurgles softly in agreement. She hasn't eaten in days, and she has to swallow the drool that has built up at the thought of her imaginary meal.

Josie does a sweeping glance through the little display window beside her. Nothing but a rotted, liquidized mess that had once been prized desserts. "Jeez, Donna. What have you been doing? Just laying around?" When the skeleton only continues to smile, Josie's brow twitches. From its vacant socket, a beetle scuttles across its cheek bone then burrows through the gaps between its teeth.

"You disgust me Donna," Josie mutters, then turns and grabs her bag to settle into a booth across the room, thoroughly done with Donna's antics.

She withdraws a map, worn and crinkled, from her torn gray bag, which had once been a vibrant blue the color of a summer's sky. Spreading it upon the table, she begins to map her next destination. If she traveled fifteen more miles west… then three south at the boulevard next to the train tracks… there, a safe house, waiting just for her.

A room to sleep in without worry. The possibility of food. Of supplies. And most of all, of other survivors.

Josie doesn't remember the last time she'd spoken with another person, present company (terrible as it is) not included. She can't remember carrying a conversation, or giving another her name, or even laughing over some stupid joke.

She can't recall the feel of another's touch.

At night, when she lays restless, afraid not of the dark but of the creatures that lurk within it, she drags her fingertips over the palms of her hands, wondering what it would feel like for another's to replace her own. She's long past the point of considering herself pathetic or crazy. That judgemental voice died a long time ago, alongside the world.

Withdrawing a sharpie, Josie writes the directions upon her forearm, then folds the map and replaces it in her bag. With her route set, and the sun beginning to fall, she is ready to bunk down for the night, eager for sleep to claim her. The night before had been terrible, that unknown special infected keeping her from the sandman's embrace. Her eyes ache, her cheeks tingling with faintness. Yes, rest sounds quite nice.

The walls and doors are boarded, and Josie double checks that the lock is flipped.

Then, wishing Donna a good rest, Josie curls into the red leather of the booth, sighing contently at its plush softness. Running her fingers over her palm, she surrenders to sleep.

It must be midnight when the banging starts up against the diner's door. Josie startles awake, nearly falling from her booth. Wiping drool from her cheek, she looks to the door, which rattles with every bang. It's back. It followed her all the way here…

"Unreal…" she mutters softly. This is a new level of intelligence. Something with a memory and ability to track and retain information. She must have only gotten three hours of sleep, leaving her miserable and shaking.

She watches the door move, listens to the pounding against it. I can't do this another night… I won't. She thinks frantically. A slice of fear bolts through her chest, and a wild energy possesses her, making her rash and stupid.

Tensing her muscles and drawing a deep breath,"Go away!" she shouts.

The banging pauses for a long moment. Josie breaths softly. Was it truly that simple? But then it starts up again, twice as hard. Josie's lip wobbles and she fists her hands into her hair, tearing at the long strands with crazed irritation. "Go away, go away, go away!"

A roar answers her own, inhuman and enraged.

It feels as if someone has just poured a cup of ice water into her brain. The did not sound like something she'd survive against…

The door is trembling in its threshold under the frantic assault, and to her dawning horror she can see the metal beginning to dent and buckle. She stares at it for a moment, uncomprehending, then leaps into action. She grabs her bag and slips it over her shoulders with feverish intensity then scuttles across the diner, moving to hide behind the counter with Donna, and not a moment too soon.

The door shudders and, with a screech of metal, it flies from its hinges and skids across the floor, coming to a rest on the other side of the diner.

Josie holds her mouth with both hands, cupping the whimper that wants to leave her. She did not survive for this many years just to let a weak sound be the end of her. Her stalker is in the diner, she can hear the glass crunching underneath its feet. Judging by the sound, it is somewhere by the booths where she'd been sleeping.

Holding her straining lungs still, she listens. A peculiar sound echoes in the tiny diner and makes her brows furrow. What was it… her blood drains from her cheeks. It's sniffing. It can smell her. With the realization, her heart beats quicker.

The sound grows closer. It knows where she is.

Gasping raggedly and subsequently giving herself away, she leaps over both Donna and the counter, stumbling then sprinting through the demolished entryway. A shriek, demonic in nature, sounds behind her.

She does not turn around, pouring all of her energy into the mad sprint for her life. She is in the shopping district of the small town so there are many buildings to run through. She still has a chance out of this. Her thoughts are shakily optimistic, but they spiral downward with the force of a crashing plane when she hears something.

A second shriek, answering the first. Another creature, and it sounds like it is of the same kind.

Josie has no time to contemplate the thought that she's probably going to die in some east bumfuck town, miles from home, a damned skeleton the last thing she ever speaks to.

Rounding a corner, she slides for a moment before catching her footing once more and tearing through an alley. Down another and another, running past storefronts and around dumpsters.

It is when she is rushing past a large department store that something hooks her foot from underneath her. She crashes against the concrete, skinning her hands as she slides along it. In one fluid movement, though, she regains her footing, her knife in hand.

The creature that has been stalking her for the last two days paces before her, the pale moon illuminating its figure for her inspection.

It's alarmingly normal looking, far more so than any of the other infected that she's encountered. Well, normal in shape. The way it prowls along the ground like a great jungle cat, its shoulders undulating with its movements is certainly not normal. A hoodie, covered in duct tape, swathes its form, a hood pulled low over its face.

When it snarls, a sound from deep within its chest, its sharp incisors glint in the moonlight, making her knees weak with fright.

Josie takes its appearance in speedily and efficiently, only the bare minimal information that she will need to survive this encounter.

It roars again, the sound akin to a hunting lion, and begins to tense its muscles. Josie shadows it, crouching low into a fighting stance and raising her dagger with promise.

A sound behind her, though, lowers her shoulders subtly. Another growling, snarling creature.

Right. The second one. She'd forgotten about that one.

Josie does not get the chance to turn around, however, for the creature before her is already leaping forward with startling agility, its hands spread towards her in murderous promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These first 3 chapters are from FF.net, just figured I'd put them on a new platform :) New chapter coming soon!

She's not sure how she's able to do it. But the vision of the glinting teeth, sharp and bared, strikes something deeply instinctual within her.

As the creature soars through the air toward her with its hands outstretched, she drops low to the ground, cupping her hands over her head. The infected overcompensates, flies over her and into its companion and they scuttle together for a moment, trying to right themselves amidst growling snarls.

It's all the time Josie needs in order to run from them. They snarl together but then go quiet as they realize their prey is making a hasty escape. They shout, long and loud, the sound reverberating through her ears as she rounds a corner. The infected from all over must have heard that sound.

Her lungs burn with every leaping stride she takes. She can hear them, right behind her, nearly catching her again. She doesn't think she'll be so lucky as to escape a second time.

The moon gently illuminates her path as she rounds a corner and ducks between buildings. Her eyes feel like two burning stones in their sockets, so desperate for sleep, and her body screams at her to just stop and let them take her. But she can't. She must survive.

A harsh, wretched sound escapes her when she sees a chain-link gate fencing her in. She drags her fingers down the links. They rattle tauntingly. She turns right, intending to run further, refusing to give up.

But a figure sat in the middle of the path ahead halts her progress as surely as a wall would.

It crouches low over a prone body, its face buried deeply into the other's stomach. If she didn't know the world the way she does, she'd think it was merely running its cheek along the rotted body's stomach like an affectionate cat.

But that's not what the world has become and that much is proven when the figure raises its head, a worm-like intestine following, clenched in its mouth.

Her knees tremble then give out as she sinks to the ground.

Another of the strange special infected. How is it she's gone her entire life without seeing them, and now they were pouring out of the woodwork? Were they like pack animals? They surely fenced her in like a hunting pack. One in front of her, the two flushing her towards it like a scared rabbit.

This one is bigger than the other two, a male judging by the broadness of his shoulders and the strong jaw peeking from under his hood. Is that a criteria to be one of these screeching freaks? A hoodie?

He rumbles lowly from deep within his chest, obviously watching her though she can't see his eyes. His lips part slightly, revealing unnaturally long canines. An animalistic part of her screams and she ducks her head, holding her knife close to her chest as she waits. She can hear the other two, scuttling behind her as they finally catch up. She turns to glance at them but a grumbling snarl makes her keep gazes with the larger one. She grits her teeth, her back tingling, readying for the tearing teeth to sink into unprotected flesh.

A harsh chorus of rumbling growls sound behind her and she further ducks her head. The large one tenses in his crouch, almost perking like a suddenly alert dog as he lifts his head to look over her. She tucks herself closer to the ground so as not to impede the creature's goal. He watches the other two, his jaw tensing, then reveals his teeth and hisses long and low like a viper.

The two behind her return the sound without pause. A tense silence follows.

It's as if a bell went off, a signal unseen or heard by Josie. One minute, they merely growl to each other. In the next, the large one's legs have tensed and he's suddenly flying through the air with a mighty roar.

She accidently slams her forehead into the concrete as she ducks further into the ground. "No!" she shouts.

But she needn't have worried.

The large one sails over her and barrels into the other two, his large size making so that he easily throws them to the ground. Cassia gasps in air and squirms away from the battle, watching intently.

With the larger one now above the two, the size discrepancy is absurdly apparent. He dwarfs over the others.

Their fight reminds her of the cats that used to prowl around outside her home when she was a girl. Vicious, terrible noises, like demons, wailing and shrieking as their claws tore into each other, fur flying and blood spattering. These creatures fight much like those cats, a primal fight filled with viciousness, no room for mercy, as limbs hardened and strengthened by the sickness tear and punch and drag.

The large one ducks down and grabs one of the others by its throat, sinking his teeth deeply through the vulnerable flesh. It struggles violently, dragging its claws down the large one in a desperate bid for freedom. Its companion lunges forward, tackling him from its brother. But the large one doesn't let go, grinding his jaw and tearing its throat from it as he is pushed away.

With the first one dead, the other loses some of its ferocity, snarling weakly and beginning to step back. But the large one is enraged, blinded by his bloodlust, and refuses to acknowledge the other's submission. He steps over the limp body then lunges, pinning the other with unimaginable strength. He grabs its face, his balance wavering as he stands, a position she figures is unnatural and uncomfortable for his kind. He wraps his fingers into its snapping mouth, one hand gripping the top jaw and the other the bottom. Its tongue wriggles madly in his grasp, its arms flailing as it tries to shut its teeth around the fingers.

With a roar, the large infected pries the jaw open to the accompanying chorus of tearing sinew, and eventually bone as he snaps its jaw apart.

It falls, thoroughly dead, its broken jaw hanging by mere threads of flesh in a macabre grin.

She remembers, then. She remembers the awful silence that would follow those cat fights. The quiet that indicated the victor, the signal that one lay dead or dying and another would live to prowl another day. She'd never thought she herself would be a part of such a primal battle.

But here she is, staring into the shadowed eyes of a killer as he settles back into a crouch, hovering over his victims, over her would-have-been murderers.

Her cheeks itch and she realizes tears have escaped unprecedented. She drags her palms roughly across them, rubbing away the salty mess. She refuses to die with tears in her eyes.

But the creature merely appraises her, watching her closely. Then, to her horrified amazement, he ducks his head and begins to eat at his brother, tearing into the soft flesh of its throat.

Josie's eyes flutter, her vision wavering slightly with the sheer intensity of the relief that washes over her.

He isn't going to hurt her. He's not going to eat her… yet.

She regains control over her trembling muscles to the sound of tearing flesh and ripping muscles. With intense concentration, she begins sidling to the side with her arms, still seated on the ground. She watches the creature avidly as he keeps his face buried in his victim. She makes it perhaps a foot before he raises his head quickly. She pauses, stilling so completely she could have been made of concrete. He growls lowly then returns to his meal.

With a trembling lip, she begins to move once more, only to pause when he snarls harshly, but only a fraction of the sound she now knows his kind capable of.

But it's enough to strike a fear into her.

She stops moving, wrapping her arms around her knees, her knife glinting in the moonlight as she watches him watch her. He holds her gaze, making sure she won't move again, then returns noisily to his meal.

She catches the sob in her throat, then settles her back against the brick wall behind her, slumping against it as she waits for… what? She doesn't know. Perhaps to be eaten by this creature.

She'd stared at it through the entirety of the night, waiting for the movement that would end her life. But it only ate of its brother, a sickening vision that she doubts will ever leave her. She doesn't remember when she wearily blinked and her eyes didn't open afterward, sleep claiming her thoroughly.

But she awakes to the gentle light of the morning sun which sets what had been a nightmare setting into crisp golden light.

Birds twitter in the distance, chirruping and lively.

She looks around cautiously. The three bodies remain, sprawled and bloody and half eaten. But their murderer is nowhere to be found. She looks all around her, even to the rooftops, but finds nothing. She runs her hands over her suddenly chilled arms. As she hesitantly rises, dubious of her luck, she glances to the corpse he had been feasting on before she'd stumbled across and interrupted him.

A common infected, its identity gone with the mauling done to it.

He was eating the infected. Were survivors so rare that he was forced to change his diet until something living came along? But then, why was she standing here twirling her thumbs if that were the case?

Numbly, she turns and makes her way out of the alley. She leans against the brick often, catching her breath and fighting the swirling vision that comes with a lack of sleep and food.

She's unaware of the large shadow that follows diligently.


	4. Chapter 4

She finds a small mom and pop shoe store by the glittering morning light, a small trek form the nightmare she'd somehow survived. Each shrill shriek and whistle of the awakening birds makes her hate the world a little bit more. She wants to yell at them, silence them with a short shout, but her tongue won't move, as if it were made of ash. Instead, she closes the door- glass but she's beyond caring, having barely enough energy to flip the lock.

The glass is cool when she leans her brow against it. Stay focused...

She stumbles to the back of the store. In the woman's shoe section, a half rotted infected moans from where it sits. The rot of its body has molded it to the cheap carpet of the store and no matter how hard it struggles it cannot get up. It settles for reaching for her, as if its arms will grow ten lengths and wrap around her. Or perhaps it expects her to walk up to it, return the embrace it requests. She does walk up to it, but rather than embrace it she plunges her knife to the hilt into its rotted skull. Josie doesn't have the energy to remove it, so she leaves it within the now quiet infected and continues on her way.

Before she can reach the employee area, she promptly passes out into a stack of shoes, scattering the tower of boxes across the floor. She can't help but think the carpet makes the nicest bedding as she surrenders to the void.

Josie walks down the sidewalk. No, walk isn't the right word for what she does. She trudges, every single contraction and release of her muscles a pure effort, consciously accomplished and celebrated with a small pep rally for each step she manages.

Her blue bag weighs upon her shoulders, seeming to grow in weight every second. She'd gone back to the department store against her better judgement and had found the pack where it had fallen in front of the store. She hadn't dared go around the back again. She'd wavered, teetering forward but catching herself at the last minute. Swallowing thickly, she'd looked down at her forearm, studied the sharpie scribbled along it, and went on her way.

And now she walks- rather, trudges along the sidewalk. Fifteen more miles west. Then three south at the boulevard next to the train tracks… and then a safe house. Her safe house. One more step after another, all she had to do was string them together.

The sidewalk is overgrown, ivy and weeds and nature reclaiming the concrete for itself. Josie steps through it, trampling dandelions that disperse pollen and floating seeds to dance against the gentle breeze.

She takes another step then pauses. Turning slowly, she eyes the plant growing rampant beside the asphalt. It looks familiar. The three angled leaf, the white flower… her eyes widen. Potatoes.

Three more miles she traveled before she came across a small stream cutting through the asphalt that has bleached grey and crumbled. Josie coos softly to the gently flowing water and follows it to find a pond overflowing from the rains. She's on autopilot as she removes a small pot from her pack and fills it with water. She sets it to boil over an aluminum can of cooking fuel she lit with her trusty zippo. With the water boiling and safe, she dumps her dirty treasure into the water and watches the bubbles avidly as they toss the brown gold about.

It feels like an eternity before they are ready. She pulls one straight from the boil, ignoring her stinging fingers, and takes the biggest bite from the root. It hurts so good as the steaming starch fills her mouth, settling sweetly upon her tongue. Tears fill her eyes as she swallows then ravages the rest of it.

She eats three more before setting more water to a boil, then downs half the pot, pouring the rest into a metal canister that she slips into her bag.

"Thank you…" she whispers, to who she isn't sure. Perhaps to herself. "Thank you."

Twelve more miles she travels until she finds the train tracks, glints of rusting steel just barely visible under the tangled overgrowth. She walks upon the tracks, holding her hands to her side, her mood uplifted now that something has filled her stomach. She briefly slides her gaze to the left. Towering pine trees, a whole forest of them, the ground carpeted by shed needles. To the right, civilization, crumbling buildings and shattered windows- a ruined world.

A movement to her left quickly draws her gaze and she stills.

The doe pauses as well, her beautiful brown eyes riveted to Josie's own, standing inside the shadows cast by the pines. A fawn peers out between the doe's legs, then stills as surely as its mother. The three stare for a long moment. An understanding passes through them. An understanding that humanity hadn't been privy to before the outbreak. The understanding that all those that are hunted share, a unique bond carried only between prey.

Josie smiles softly to them then walks on.

Ahead looms a rusted passenger car detached from the rest of the train which is nowhere in sight. Josie wipes away the water stains to peer through the glass window. Nothing stirs inside. It is only a few miles south until the safe house, but the sun is already descending, and the cart will make as a good a shelter as any.

She makes her way to the back and tugs at the heavy metal door, jerking until it gives with a sharp screech. She heaves it aside and ducks through it. A row of seats line both the sides with a velvet carpet running below the soft, luxurious leather that makes up the seats. There's even a chandelier hanging from the roof, grand crystals dangling from delicate metal arches.

Josie whistles softly. It looks untouched by the outbreak, a respite from the daily ruin and rot. She's hesitant to step inside lest she disturb the untouched image from the past. The richness and the quality make her heart ache.

Even when the world had been right, hers had been wrong.

The chandelier alone would have paid for the shit-hole her parents called a home for several months.

At the thought, she slams the door closed and stomps through the carriage, her teeth bared like one of those feline-esque special infected as she throws her pack against the far end of the carriage. She slumps into one of the chairs, sinking into the plush seat.

It's so comfortable. She runs her dirty, calloused fingers over the fine stitching.

With a sneer, she grabs her knife from the holster strapped to her leg and turns around in the seat. With a muted grunt, she plunges the point into the leather, over and over and over again.

Only when cheap fluff flies from the seat and it resembles nothing of its previous elegance does she stop. With a growl, she swipes away tears from her eyes, eats a cold potato, and sleeps on the floor between the chairs, ignoring the velvet plushness and the faint scent of expensive perfume wafting from its depths.

A sharp, musty scent awakes her. It reminds her of a forest, of resin-scented darkness. She looks around, noting the gentle crescent of the moon staring through the dirty windows.

She looks around, her brow furrowing as she slowly gets to her feet. Something rustles at the end of the cart.

Her hands reach around, looking for a bag before she remembers she'd thrown it from her in her small fit.

Something rustles again from wherever she'd thrown the bag, and a soft growl answers behind her.

Josie stills completely, her muscles locking together like a jigsaw puzzle. Something huffs, so close behind her that its breath stirs her hair into movement.

She trembles and turns her head painfully slowly.

It's the large infected. She recognizes him immediately. He looms in front of her exit, standing shakily before her. Even with his knees bent and shoulders hunched, he towers over her by two head lengths.

Josie swallows softly. Even with the bright moonlight, and even with his breath gusting across the top of her head, she cannot see his face, shrouded as it is by the hood.

He growls again, softly this time, nearly a hum. She watches him, waiting for him to lunge.

A minute must have passed, maybe two. She felt like the doe from earlier that day, staring into the eyes of a wolf. The hunter and its prey staring at each other. Yes, that's what it is. A hunter. She the doe, and he her hunter.

With a swallowed growl, he suddenly steps forward. A single step, but enough to drive her stumbling back. He continues to advance, matching her retreat. Finally, she stumbles to the side and into one of the chairs, her chest heaving with panicked breath. The hunter's hooded gaze looks to her for a moment before continuing down the aisle, dropping to crouch on all fours like a beast as he prowls forward.

Something rustles once more- from under her bag, she realizes. The hunter's humming growl suddenly increases to a muted snarl as he lunges forward.

He sits back up just as quickly, a muted crunching accompanying his movement, as if he chewed on a potato chip. He looks over his shoulder to gaze at her and it is when she sees a tiny tail disappear past his lips that she realizes what had been rustling below her pack.

The mouse must have been trying to get at her food, chewing at the fabric of her pack to get it.

The hunter slurps the tail up like a spaghetti noodle, chews, then stills once more, holding her gaze.

Her mouth gapes open. She's been comparing this thing to a cat all this time and now… it catches a mouse. She sinks into the chair, holding a hand to her forehead, too disbelieving to laugh. How had it even gotten in? The door is sealed shut.

The hunter doesn't seem to care much for the crises state of her mind as he moves back down the aisle, creeping toward her, coming to a stop in front of her seat.

His hood tilts slightly, like a curious dog, then leans forward. She swallows and sits back against the window, digging her feet into the seat to push herself as far away from the creature as she can but he simply follows her, leaning further into her.

He continues to move, one of his arms lifting to rest above her head, effectively caging her in with his broad shoulders. His hooded face soon follows, leaning closer and closer until she can see the thin line of red trailing down his chin, can feel his breath puffing against her face, scented iron and inexplicably of sap and resin, like the forest she'd passed. He tilts his head. It isn't until his nose trails against her cheek that she whimpers softly.

He stills with such suddenness, as if she'd stabbed him. He's so close she can see him swallow, the slight bob of his adam's apple. And then he's retreating, moving away from her to settle into the seat across from her. She breathes deeply, gasping for breath when he moves from her.

The hunter watches her avidly, drawing his legs to his chest and leaning against the wall as she does, almost mirroring her position exactly.

Josie stares at the hunter, pulls her arms tighter about herself.

He holds her gaze a moment longer then looks around, scratching idly at the duct tape wrapped around his arm.

Her disbelieving giggle draws his gaze immediately. "I've lost my mind," she explains shrilly to the zombie sitting across from her.


	5. Chapter 5

Her disbelieving giggle draws his gaze immediately. "I've lost my mind," she explains shrilly to the zombie sitting across from her.

The hunter's head tilts, just slightly, like a curious puppy listening to a human's voice but not understanding the words spoken.

Josie swallows the discomfort her own laughing voice brought her and settles into a tense staring match with the infected. Slowly, her gaze slides to the end of the train carriage and sees the silhouetted outline of her pack. Then she looks to the door. One or the other. If she goes for the bag, he'd trap her from her escape. If she managed to get the rusted door open in time without the massive hunter tearing her open like it had the others, she'd be without supplies.

Both meant death.

She weighs her odds. He doesn't seem aggressive at the moment. If she keeps her movements slow…

Josie begins to slide forward, keeping her gaze glued to his own. He merely watches her as she unintentionally creeps closer to him. When she sets her boots against the plush carpet, he rumbles so softly she wonders if she imagined the sound. He had sounded more inquisitive than anything else, confirmed when his head tilts impossibly further. She can just see the puppy ears flopping to the side.

No. Infected. Dried blood from who knows what on his face and chest. Not a puppy, she thinks avidly.

But it acts like one. Like an animal. She'd grown up in a house filled with five dogs and three cats, her mother an avid lover of rescuing the beasts. She knew intimately the creatures possessed a language of their own, through their gazes and ears and tails they communicate as clearly as a human's words.

It is with these thoughts that she deliberately keeps her eyes lowered, her neck just barely presented, her head lowered and shoulders curved as she rises from her seat, making herself as small and submissive as possible.

She darts a quick glance toward him, whom makes no move to encourage or disprove her actions. She makes sure not to turn her back to him as she retreats down the cart, walking slowly until her heel taps against the ragged weaving of her pack. Slowly, so slowly, she bends and grabs it, sliding the straps over her shoulders.

The hunter's gaze is riveted to her own, raised slightly in his seat to watch her progress.

Josie swallows. Now for the hard part. Slowly, she makes her way back down the aisle until it's time for her to pass him. She maneuvers her body, always keeping her front to him, then backs once more down the cart. The hunter watches her- probably thinks she's being ridiculous, sidling past him like a crab, but if it keeps those claws from ripping her stomach open, she'll do anything. She reaches behind her blindly. When the cool metal of the latch graces her fingers, her shoulders relax just slightly.

The door screeches as she cracks it open. Josie cringes at the sound, at the last moment keeping herself from baring her teeth. Something bizarre happens then, a mere flicker of movement that Josie isn't quite sure she saw. The hunter himself had cringed at the loud noise, just barely revealing a glint of ivory teeth before immediately lowering his lip, tilting his head away from her for a moment and seemingly dropping his gaze.

It seems submission goes both ways.

She doesn't have time to contemplate the intricacies of his diseased mind.

The warm breeze that flows through the cracked door causes her to inflate her lungs, slowly breathing away her tension as she steps down from the cart, inching away until the large hunter is obscured from her sight by the carriage.

The moment he is, she slams the door shut and whirls on her heel, leaping over the metal tracks and sliding down the pebbles lining the sloping sides. A shout echoes behind her, muted by iron and glass. She runs faster, sprinting toward the abandoned buildings and the promise of refuge in the form of a safe house.

A sudden shatter and the sound of falling glass and Josie ducks her head. The hunter has thrown his body through one of the windows. She can hear him, leaping behind her, gaining on her with unimaginable speed.

The nerves in Josie's back screams, turned as it is to the predator. Quickly, she spins on her heel and stops running. She stands tall, her chin high as she breathes heavily.

The hunter had been a mere few feet away, so close to pulling her to the ground. He skids to a stop at her sudden about face, crouching low to the ground and hissing confusedly as he backs away a step, glass falling from the folds in his hoodie and glinting in the moonlight.

She holds his hooded gaze, regaining her breath. She swallows thickly and clears her throat. "I'm going that way," she points just barely. The hunter looks at her gesturing arm then once more to her eyes. "You won't follow me anymore. Ok? Go back to the other town. Don't follow me."

He's looking up at her as if entranced, like a child enraptured by a fairy tale. Josie shakes her head and begins to step away.

He matches her stride, rumbling softly. "I said no!" she yells, baring her teeth like she'd seen her mother's pitbull do in that life so long ago. The hunter doesn't respond to her aggression, merely stares up at her. She ignores her nerves, standing before this creature. He's huge, even crouched before her, even with her standing as rigidly straight as she can, he's almost as tall as her.

When she steps back again, he growls but doesn't follow, merely cranes his head and looks beyond her, towards the abandoned buildings and the safe house. "Good," she praises softly, "go back." He could eat all the mice and rotted bodies he wanted away from her.

She retreats a fair distance then slowly turns her back to him. She glances over her shoulder often, watching as the distance consumes the hunter from her vision. He watches her go, as still as the dead.

Josie enters the town, weaving through the buildings until she finds a sidewalk, constantly looking around her for sight of the hunter and of the red door or infected, her hand hovering above the knife at her thigh. It seems he understood her aggression and had heeded her meaning, had decided to leave her. Only he knew why he followed her all the way here. He wanted to eat you, idiot. She snorts. Of course.

Luckily, one of the apartment complex's doors are shattered, thrown across the road to rest in the shattered window of the building across the way. The abandoned, dark halls do little to startle her- in these times, it takes quite a lot to spook her. Using her zippo, she climbs the shadowed stairs, stepping over rotting bodies and around debris until she emerges atop the roof. It is there, against the cool concrete, that she sleeps until the sun rises.

By the lemon yellows of the morning sun, she's able to search the town properly. The town is still, no stirring infected. Abandoned clothing stores in which only gauzy lingerie or nightgowns or slippers and sandals remained, useless items.

There are, however, disturbing sights. The bodies look as if a giant had stepped through the clouds and crunched them under its heel, smeared across overgrown concrete and flattened against dilapidated walls as they are. A corpse dangles from high on a wall solely by its head shoved into the brick. She'd never seen anything quite like it. The way the very bones are ground into powder, the smear of black blood. It makes her wish to find the safe house all the more sooner.

This long into the apocalypse, she's learned to listen to that innate, implacable sense that always makes itself known in the back of her mind. Now it murmurs restlessly. Something here is not right. Death, more pungent than anywhere else. But she refuses to walk away from the town. The next safe house is dozens of miles away and she refuses to sleep in the open. She's been reckless with her safety in these last few days- she won't be doing so another night.

And then she sees it, the flash of red at the end of a crumbling street. She perks up and begins to hurriedly trot down the road. Safety, food, supplies, and people- they aren't guaranteed by the red door. But the chance is there.

Before she enters, she raises her knuckles and raps against the metal. Her father had instilled manners into her with the rigidity of a prison guard… that, and she didn't want to end up with a stomach full of buck shot if another survivor was inside. When nothing answers, she pries the door open and hesitantly peeks inside.

And screams.

She bounces on her toes outside the door, flapping her hands in the air and grinning widely. A bed. A bed. With pillows and blankets and… she laughs happily and darts inside, slamming the door behind her. She stops just inches from the mattress shoved into the corner, her dirty fingers coming into harsh contrast with the white cleanliness of the sheets. She chews on her lip and hesitantly looks around the room then back to the pure white of the bed. The sheets mock her, the state she is in.

She stares longingly at them then stands, turning her back to the mattress.

Might as well search for food first. The safe room is a one-bedroom apartment, poor and rundown and without windows. Perfect. The kitchen is merely a corner, and a small door in the far wall must be the bathroom.

The cupboards are empty save the cleaned bones of a rat. Flashes of the hunter cross her mind and she grimaces, closing the doors quickly. She's tempted not to open the fridge, knowing the smell will be horrendous, but she has no other choice. To her continuing fortune, a bottle of water, shoved past the rotted sludge of long expired food. She drains it in half a minute.

The tiny bathroom is empty save a half-empty packet of toothpaste, which she hastens to use. The water, of course, doesn't run. She hopes, the further into the country she travels and the further she walks from suburbia, the more she'll find water systems connected to personal wells. But even then, electricity would be needed to pump the water.

It doesn't bother Josie too much, though. She's accepted her doomed fate of the constant layer of dirt coating her. She doesn't even bother with her hair, always keeping it tied in a stern high pony tail, leaving the strands to do as they please- which seems to be to tangle as closely together as they can to form a near rat's nest.

Josie eats one of the dwindling potatoes, passes time by cleaning her nails with her knife and imagining the warmth of a bath and reading a torn, cheap romance book she'd found when departing from the apartment complex. She'd unabashedly stared at the shirtless man, appreciating him despite the corny circumstances of his pose and the way his shirt is torn to conveniently reveal a muscled chest as he flexes atop the cover. She's forced to set it aside when night begins to set, unwilling to waste lighter fuel on the utter drivel slathered across the thin pages. She moves to lay into the mattress but pauses once more, reluctant to touch the white sheets with her dirty body.

The world had enough filth, it didn't need her to go about slathering more upon it.

She sleeps instead against the wooden flooring, tucking her knees to her chin, resting her head upon her bumpy pack and submitting to sleep without dreams. Dreams are a thing of the past, a machination of a well-rested, well-fed and content mind, things Josie has not the luxury of knowing. But she does, just briefly, imagine a forest, thick pine and darkness and chirping birds and screaming cicadas, brief as the flash of a lightning bolt, then full darkness.

She wakes to glaring sunlight and an aching neck. Birds chirrup softly and her arm is numb from where she'd fallen asleep atop it. But none of those trivial matters concern her.

The rampaging, tremendous roar that rattles the walls of the safe house, making her teeth ache and her brain vibrate, prioritizes all of her attention.

That, and the large hunter crouched above her, holding his knees to his chest and gazing intently at the closed door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for leaving the last chapter on a cliffie, so here's a quick update! Warning: this chapter is kind of really fluffy- enough to sleep in, I'd imagine. I'm not sure about it or not. Let me know if you guys want to see stuff like this more often or not... never really wrote this kind of stuff before lol, a little worried about it all.

She wakes to glaring sunlight and an aching neck. Birds chirrup softly and her arm is numb from where she'd fallen asleep atop it. But none of those trivial matters concern her.

The rampaging, tremendous roar that rattles the walls of the safe house, making her teeth ache and her brain vibrate, prioritizes all of her attention.

That, and the large hunter crouched above her, holding his knees to his chest and gazing intently at the closed door.

The bleary laziness of sleep evaporates from her like a morning mist before a glaring sun. She gasps and twists away, coming to a stop with her back against a wall. "What the hell," she hisses. The hunter responds to her aggression in kind, ivory teeth flashing in the sunlight. His incisors are unnaturally long, almost like a lion's.

Cowed, she drops her gaze to his shoulder, wondering where his submissive behavior has disappeared to. Her answer comes in the form of another roar. A painting falls off the wall and crashes to the floor beside her. What in the world is that? It couldn't be a… no.

Far more concerned with the unknown threat than the one sitting in front of her, Josie jumps to her feet. She grabs her pack as she walks to the red door to the tunes of her stalker's worried rumblings and the ear-piercing roars of what sounds like an enraged gorilla.

She gazes through the metal slats of the door, glancing quickly at the hunter to make sure he isn't about to take a bite out of her. Outside lays concrete buildings and crumbling asphalt. Nothing's changed from yesterday. She's about to turn around but suddenly a boulder of torn road flies from outside of her vision, sailing through the air and crashing into the third floor of a parking garage down the road. Clouds of dust fly everywhere as rubble falls.

The vibrations increase, footfalls she realizes, and the huge figure that waddles from down the road is almost entirely obscured by the swirling dust. But Josie would recognize the creature based on its size alone. The bulging arms, the sloping back, and the disproportionate head… she's only seen one before and that had been a half-rotted corpse. Any further knowledge she had of the special infected comes from the walls of safe rooms. It had given her chills when she'd seen it, the hasty doodle in sharpie and the words scrawled below the large creature. In big letters the wall had read, Tank. Took the neighbors. Killed the kids. See it and you're dead. Tank. How fitting, she thinks. To see it in motion is a terrifying thing.

It roars and grunts like a pig then digs its fingers into the road as if the asphalt were made of butter. It lifts another slab of crumbling road above its head.

Josie's nerves scream and the voice she'd ignored earlier is calling her all sorts of names. How could she have been so stupid? Why couldn't she connect the dots of this ghost town? Idiot, idiot! From this distance, it's impossible to see the tank's gaze, but she feels its intent deep in her bones. Before it has a chance to chuck the concrete at her like a mutated game of shot put, she shoves the red door open and scrambles from the trajectory of the now soaring debris. She ducks her head when her safe room is obliterated, pieces of rubble and flying iron framework peppering her flesh in open gashes.

She ducks her head until the assault ends then begins running. An alleyway is set to her left and she sprints down it, ignoring the earth-shattering roar and approaching vibrations as the beast begins to chase her.

The alley dips to the right, which she takes in a sweeping turn, losing her footing for a moment as the concrete below her vibrates violently with the tank's steps. Her legs pump as she runs, her ponytail flaring behind her, ignoring the smash of thrown debris against the wall feet from her. She leaps over a dented trash can and ducks under a twisted street sign as she emerges onto the main street. Ahead, she can see the verdant leaves of the forest in the distance, a siren's call of refuge. If she could just make it there, maybe she could lose the tank.

The street right in front of her erupts in an explosion of debris. She slides to a stop, losing her footing and tumbling to the asphalt, sliding to a stop inches from the newly made gash in the road. A tremulous roar makes her turn. The tank is approaching rapidly, his grotesquely tiny head ducked as he runs on his knuckles towards her from down the road. She freezes for a moment, a rabbit looking upon a speeding, approaching car.

Get up, a voice whispers in her mind. Get up!

Driven purely by instinct, she obeys. It takes her a few steps to catch her stride because of the way her legs tremble, but soon she's running once more, devastatingly aware of the quickly gaining tank. She knows she can't outrun it, and she surely can't kill it. One knife against thousands of pounds of muscle? No. No, she must hide.

She's already scanning the abandoned buildings as she rounds a corner, zeroing in on a silhouette perched upon the roof. So the hunter had made it out of the room in time. He reminds her of the looming gargoyles that had been carved into the roof of the church in the town nearest to where she'd lived. Her fevered mind likens it more to an angel. She immediately changes her course, crossing the road.

She almost cries when she tugs on the door to the building and it refuses to give. Jiggling the metal doesn't help and neither does the savage kick she gives it. Hurry, hurry, hurry. It's coming, she thinks, then notices a window to the left of the door, upon which antique goods are displayed.

Not stopping to think, she backs away a few steps. Getting a running start she tosses her body through the glass, tucking her head to her chest and allowing her left shoulder to take the brunt of the impact. The glass shatters and she rolls into a sea of the shards, stilling immediately and just in time.

The tank rounds the corner, roaring. The floor vibrates to a teeth-rattling tremble as the tank runs past her hiding spot, making the glass shards dig deeper into the flesh of her arm. She bears the pain with grit teeth. Its rampage travels further down the road, screaming and yelling and going utterly mad in its search for her.

An eventual silence descends, almost as deafening as the tank's roars had been. Josie slowly sits up, absently pulling inch-long shards of glass from her arm.

She's dazed, staring absently at the old shag rug she sits on. She'd almost been killed. That had been one of the closest moments she's ever been to the elusive entity known to her only as death.

In her peripheral, a looming shadow. She nearly screams but the sight of the hoodie and the peculiar crouch upon the step of the stairs soothes her nerves. Josie stares at him, her hands shaking with residual adrenaline, her heart still storming in her chest from her near death.

In the glinting daylight, she can clearly see the hunter for the first time. He wears a black hoodie with gold lining and a small Fleur-de-Iis stitched at the top left, just over his heart. The fabric of the shirt and his denim jeans are worn, as is the duck-tape wrapped like bandages over his arms and legs. His black vans are just like the rest of him; worn to the point of tearing. Under the shadow of his hood, she can just make out his unnaturally pale chin stained with smears of dried red. She can even see the play of his lips, thinning and stretching nervously.

"Did you lead that thing to me?" she wonders, her voice wavering despite herself.

The hunter rumbles at the sound of her voice. "Did you?" she asks as if she truly expects an answer. Way off in the distance, the tank roars. Torn from her thoughts by the inspired surge of electrifying fear, she lifts herself from her glass trappings, cringing silently as blood trails down her arm.

She can just see the hunter's nose quivering softly, and she briefly wonders if now will be the time he finally attacks her. Josie's hand hovers over her knife. The hunter looks at the blade then back up at her. Josie snorts and begins to trudge towards the hunter and the stairs he sits on. "Move," she grunts. He avidly watches the scarlet trail of her blood. He leans in closer to her and Josie is quick to bare her teeth like an animal.

He stills for an eternally long moment in which she wonders if he'll finally pounce. Then he cocks his head.

"I can't believe I was afraid of you," she mutters. Her legs begging to rest, and aware that she can be seen through the window if the tank decides to come back, she slowly brushes by the hunter. He doesn't seem intent on moving anything but his head as he watches her slide by him, having to press her back against the wall as her shoulder brushes his own in order to get by.

As she trudges up the stairs she can hear her stalker follow her, on all fours like a dog.

It seems she crashed into an antique shop, and the upstairs is where the owner had lived- elderly, judging by the number of dollies and yarn and lace. There's a bed in the corner, a sheet obscuring a skeletal outline. A withering, petrified rose is sat atop the corpse. Josie ignores it and moves to the window, moving aside lace curtains to peer down at the street. When she turns the hunter is standing just behind her, looking over her shoulder. "Get away," she hisses, shoving him.

He immediately drops to a crouch, hissing from deep in his chest and backing away.

Keeping her glare upon him, she slides down the wall until she sits under the window then unstraps her pack. She pushes aside metal canisters and a sharpening stone to pull out a pair of tweezers, absently keeping an eye on the hunter. He's pacing in front of her on all fours. "You look like a dog when you do that," she snarks as she raises her arm to her eyes. He looks at her when she speaks then wobbly stands to look over her, out the window.

Almost absently, he scratches at the ducktape of his arm then slowly sits cross-legged in front of her, six feet away. As he gazes around the new surrounding in guileless scrutiny, she sees a shred of humanity in him, in the way his gaze is captured by the corpse for a moment. An almost… innocence to the way he moves. She wonders if it has always been there and she'd just been too blind to see it. Or maybe she's reading too much into the idle movements of the man.

Either way, it brings a sense of overwhelming guilt to her that overrides the pain of pulling glass from her arm. Here she was, comparing him to a dog, making light of him, when he was just as much a victim of the world as she is. He's sick, her mind scolds. Diseased, and here he has some bitchy woman mocking him for it. Shame on you. The voice in her mind sounds a lot like her mother.

She worries her lip for a moment as she pulls a small sliver from her elbow and lets it fall to the ugly lime colored carpet below. Josie doesn't look up at him as she speaks. "I'm sorry. I…" she laughs self-deprecatingly and shakes her head. "You probably don't even understand me… but nonetheless… I'm sorry. You don't deserve what I said."

A slide of blood drops from her fingers and she giggles, nodding towards the copper smattering. "There's your commiseration. Do you believe in karma?" She laughs again then slides a two-inch long shard from her forearm, ignoring the salty liquid brimming her eyes as she does. Even with the pain and the guilt, she is reveling in the simple act of talking. To converse and laugh… when's the last time she's done that?

Josie's hesitant to break the illusion. She can almost imagine it, a man sitting across from her, nodding at her observations and laughing along with her. But her eyes raise regardless. And finds him staring right back at her, so intently that she drops the tweezers. She wonders if she pushed back that hood, would there be intelligence in his eyes? Shaking her head she grabs up the tweezers and twists her arm around. It seems as if she's gotten all of it. She looks up and is startled to find the hunter closer, growls streaming from him.

Before she has time to react, a roar rattles the glass of the window in its pane- the tank is returning. Josie stills completely, pressing her back further into the wall. Would it smell her blood? Could it? Did it have that ability? She's petrified.

But the hunter seems able to move, crawling forward, closer and closer until his nose is nearly touching her own. She presses further into the wall, but there is nowhere to go. Does he not understand personal boundaries? He looks at her for an eternally long moment and it feels as if he stares into her very soul. Just as she is getting ready to kick him away, he lifts himself just slightly in order to peer out of the window. His chest is pressed to her bowed head, one of his legs placed between her thighs, utterly encompassing her in his huge presence. She wants to push him away but dares not do so with death looming in the streets below, instead choosing to go completely rigid. As she shallowly breathes, the scent of a forest emanates from his tattered clothes. Pine and sap, sunshine and growing things. She unconsciously breathes the scent in deeper and is startled to discover the heat that is radiating from him.

For some reason, she's always thought the infected would be cold, like the dead.

The tank's footsteps are growing louder as he charges once more down the street below. The hunter ducks down, leaning into her. His chest is pressed against her own, and she can feel the slight vibrations of his rumbling growl rattling his ribs and traveling into her own.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the tank is soon gone, its steps fading as it goes the other way. It hadn't smelled her blood. It hadn't found her and rent her limps from her body…she sighs and relaxes just slightly. What a stupid creature…

…God, the hunter is warm, like a literal furnace. When was the last time she's felt another's heat? Years. Definitely years. It's absolutely indescribable, the toe-curling feeling of another living, breathing creature's warmth pressed so closely against her. Josie's eyes flutter. Almost instinctively and entirely unconsciously she presses her chest closer to his own, relishing the contact, the slight rise and fall of his chest against her own as he breathes.

The hunter stills at the contact as does Josie when she realizes the compromising situation she's put herself into. Cuddling with a man-eater. Bad Josie.

The hunter's head ducks, his chin brushing her shoulder. Slowly he turns his head, his nose brushing her cheekbone. His puff of warm breath isn't unpleasant as she would have expected. Like the rest of him, he smells like the forest, only tinged with copper.

Copper. Because blood. Because cannibal. Josie swallows thickly and glances up at the large hunter. Through the shadows of his hood she can just make out the outline of arching brows and high cheekbones, twin pools of darkness where his eyes are, indistinguishable in the shadows. "Please," she whispers softly, her voice obviously startling him as he jolts against her. "Please get away."

She doubts he understands her words. But something in her tone, a plea, is enough to make the huge male back away from her.

Josie almost reaches out to grab a fistful of his hoodie to pull him back against her but controls herself at the last moment. As he settles before her, a thought occurs to her. "You didn't lead the tank to me…" she realizes, the truth of it all ringing in her words and her soul. "You were… you were only warning me of it." She shakes her head, at a loss for words. "You… saved me. Again." The hunter cocks his head and a glint of metal in the sunlight catches her gaze.

Under his hoodie, just barely visible, a chain is wrapped around his neck.

He's yet to be aggressive towards her. Whether still fresh from her high of warmth or perhaps of the realization, or if she's just officially insane, she reaches for the glint of metal. Slowly, of course, and with her eyes properly lowered.

When he growls lowly she only stills a moment. "Shh," she soothes, hushing his rumbling into silence. Stupid, stupid girl. Reach for the animalistic man's neck. Good idea. She ignores the irritating voice of rationality. When he's stilled once more, she reaches further forward. Her arm is just before his neck, further, further, further until…her fingers graze his throat. He's so warm, her fingertips glide along the skin there. She can feel the play of his prominent muscles as he swallows and she reflexively grips him tighter. She shushes him again when he begins to rumble, but her touch only increases the sound. Hesitating at the aggression, she begins to pull her hand away but he catches it, holding her arm against him as he growls louder. He's going to bite her, she's sure of it. But he merely holds her there, long enough for her to realize he isn't growling at all. He's… purring. Like a content cat with a bowl of milk.

As he purrs, he lifts her marred arm to his face and considers the drying tracks of blood on her fingers then tilts her arm until a vacant slash of torn flesh is visible on her forearm. She's frozen solid as he considers the wound. His mouth moves forward, hovering over the wound and her other hand is wrapping around the hilt of her blade, tensing to plunge it into him.

But he does something so bizarre she momentarily forgets her name. He… licks her, his tongue darting out in quick swipes to lave away the dried blood, his purrs fluctuating with the movement of his throat and his unnaturally long canines glinting with the movement.

Josie knows, she knows deep in her heart. She knows she should feel disgusted. She should be worrying about the germs. Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that the male before her is prone to eating flesh and is now enjoying her blood as an appetizer. She knows this. But despite herself, she doesn't draw her blade.

After one last languid swipe of his tongue, he releases her arm and backs away, taking the glinting metal wrapped around his neck with him.

She blinks dazedly, flexing her fingers absently as she clears her throat, ignoring the pounding of her heart against her ribs as she tries to remember how to breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this particular chapter seems to drag, don't worry. There's plot a'coming soon. :)

Josie waits an hour before venturing outside of the antique shop. As much as she dreads braving the streets as the sun sets, if she stays any longer the scent of her blood will thicken until even the tank's weak nose can smell her. Best to leave while the massive infected seems to have forgotten about her.

She peeks outside of the broken window and scans the street then climbs over the chipped sill. A crunch behind her makes her turn quickly, her blade already drawn. The Hunter purrs softly as he follows her, leaping out of the sill and settling back onto his haunches, scanning the street as she had. Her lips begin to spread in a smile but she quickly frowns and begins to hurry down the street. Maybe if she ignored him he'd bore of her and go away. Nothing good could come of having an infected following her around. 'He's saved your life two times…' a voice peeps from her mind. She squishes it under her heel and grinds it down for good measure.

The sun is setting far faster than she's comfortable with- nearly an hour of daylight left, at the most. She has to hurry and find shelter, but the town is no good. The forest… Nothing to hide behind, no supplies, and most probably no people. But no tanks, either. The forest it is.

She skirts alleys and ducks around corners, stealthily making her way through the town, stilling at every unnatural sound until she is finally at the edge of the road. In the distance she can see the train tracks, and beyond that, verdant growth and tangled foliage. Perfect. She quickly glances behind her and finds that the quirky hunter is no longer following her. Unable to stop herself, she scans the rooftops but finds nothing there. She frowns when she realizes what she's doing, and instead faces forward.

It will be a quick sprint from here to the edge of the forest, with as little time out in the open as possible. Her thighs tense and her muscles hum and she's off, tearing across asphalt and then the meadow of grass and leaping over the train tracks. Almost there.

The forest does not accept her kindly, thorns and tangles of vine catching her hair and clothes as she squeezes under tree branches and around thick oaken trunks. She runs until she can't feel her legs, then she runs some more.

A rabbit hole hidden beneath tangled overgrowth swallows her leg and she tumbles across the ground, coming to a decided stillness. She lays on loamy earth and gasps her breath, filling her desperate lungs as she smiles ditzily up at the thick canopy of the oaks. Safe.

Yellow teeth fill her vision, chomping inches from her face, throwing her heart into her throat as she startles away. The infected, a large man in a red flannel shirt, howls and throws itself at her, grabbing her shoulders to drag her closer to its jaws that snap hollowly, a piece of flesh dangling from its cheek dances with its movements.

Josie snarls back and stomps her boot into the creature's leg, feeling its tibia crumble under her strike. It moans and drags her closer, ignoring its stilted leg. She holds it away with one hand at its neck and with the other grapples for her blade. Its rotten breath shudders against her cheek, inches away from digging into her face and it lunges, forcing her to reach up and hold it away with both hands. She's holding it at arm's length but its strength is slowly overpowering her, dragging her inch by inch closer to its jaws. Josie grits her teeth as her arms tremble. The recent months of starvation do her muscles little good, her strength only a fraction of what it used to be in the first years. Of course, she mourns, of course she manages to get away from a tank, only to have a common infected be the thing that finally takes her out.

A blur and a flash of movement and the infected is flying away from her, flailing through the air like a rag doll and cracking in half against a tree trunk. The hunter roars and paces in front of her like a cat, his broad back filling her vision. And then he's following the infected, upon it in a single bounding leap that defies physics, and he's burying his snarling face into the infected's throat and eating with such terrible tearing sounds and hisses that she must turn her back to him.

She's shaking, unable to control her shivering muscles. From fatigue, yes… but fear as well. She'd grown complacent with the hunter, had begun to regard him as a companion. She'd forgotten that in his huge frame is a power and a strength incomprehensible to her. The way he'd thrown that infected from her, his overheated and overpowered muscles flexing and contracting, she's abruptly reminded that she's come to call him a hunter for a reason. He's a predator before all else.

She shrieks when his face suddenly appears in her vision and he startles away from the loud noise, hissing quietly and crouching low to the forest floor. His chin is coated in black blood and his chest flares against his hoodie in heaving breaths as he recovers from his own burst of adrenaline. Josie stands quickly and begins to back away from the predator. He watches her move away, remaining still in his crouch. She has her knife brandished, her face pale, as she watches him, unable to remove the images of his raw, ferocious strength from her mind. If he ever directed that ferocity on her… she shudders to think about it.

'…But he hasn't,' the voice in her head chirps. No… he hasn't… in all of their encounters, he's never been aggressive to her. As if to further encourage her thoughts, the hunter hums curiously as he watches her, confused by her fear.

Her breath leaves her in a big sigh and she lowers her blade, shaking her head. "You're terrifying," she explains herself, offhandedly, knowing he can't understand her but feeling better for it. "But you've also saved me… three times now? Were you human, I'd be kissing you right now," she smiles tremulously. The hunter drags his sleeve over his chin, smearing the blood there, as if to further solidify the fact that he certainly is not human. Not for the first time does she wonder what's beneath that hood of his. If she slid the material back, would a monster be staring back at her?

Josie slowly sheathes her knife and begins to brush dirt from her jeans and t-shirt. "You know, for a moment there I'd thought you left me alone in that town." She deliberately doesn't look at the other infected's gnawed body, instead assessing the sun's position and then deciding her direction. She sets to walking further into the forest and turns to watch as the hunter follows her. "Silly me, thinking I could get rid of you so easily, huh?" He chuffs like a great big cat and she softly chuckles. "I suppose I'm just going to have to get used to you. Only you would know in that crazy mind of yours why you're following me around. But I suppose…" she swallows and scratches her cheek. "I suppose I could use the company. Regardless of cannibalistic tendencies." A barrier she'd erected around her heart the day the world had fallen begins to crumble with her words, with her acceptance, and she feels lighter for it.

They travel together, the survivor and the infected, through the forest for the remaining hours of daylight. When the canopy turns red with the sun's last breaths, Josie accepts that she won't be sleeping in shelter tonight. But where…? She has only ever slept in the suburbs and the city since the world went to hell. Forests are a whole new territory for her. She considers sleeping at the base of a tree, but then she remembers the infected from earlier and dismisses the notion. Maybe she could find a great big rabbit burrow and live underground like a hobbit. What if there were underground special infected? She chews her lip but is interrupted from her wandering thoughts when a leaf floats through the air and lands upon her head. She quirks a brow and looks up, squinting at the figure sitting in the branches. "How the hell…" she breathes as the hunter looks down at her. He's so high up that her neck aches from looking at him. "How the hell did you get up there?" she calls to him. Even though he's so far up, she can still hear his gentle rumbling as he purrs down to her.

Josie remembers, then, the way he'd leaped after that infected. His legs must be the most powerful thing about him if he could leap that distance. If he could leap forward, he could leap up. "Well I'm glad you're safe," she calls up to him sarcastically. Though it isn't a bad idea. Besides him, she's never seen an infected climb a tree before. If she could get up there… when was the last time she's climbed a tree? As she looks up at him and he stares down at her, the height becomes dizzying. She shakes her head and blinks away the vertigo then grits her teeth. Heights terrify her. But so did her first kill. So did the first time she ever saw one of the infected. But she's conquered those fears.

Josie stands at the base of the tree and wraps her hand around the first branch. Let's get this over with. Survive. She sets her pack atop a branch, where it will be safe, then begins to climb.

The first few branches aren't too big a deal. The bark is rough and wide and easy to grip with her fingers and the toes of her boots. But when she's more than halfway up she makes the mistake of looking down. "Oh, g…" she swallows her sentence and presses her forehead against the tree's trunk as her stomach flips. If she fell she'd die. If she fell she'd die. Oh god, she's going to die. A rumble vibrates through the air above her, interrupting her spiraling mind. She sniffles and looks up to find the hunter leaning down from the branch above her. She scrunches her nose and sniffs again. "I'm usually pretty tough," she tells him matter-of-factly, though her voice is wobbling. "But heights just… well, they scare the shit out of me." The hunter chuffs softly and she reaches further upward, wrapping her arm around the branch he sits on and slowly pulling herself up. "My dad would kill me if he heard me swearing, never mind that I'm an adult," she rambles.

For a moment, her grip slips and she swears she's going to end up a stain on the forest floor, a permanent fixture. Want to find Josie? Turn left at the mushrooms, left again at the fox den. Mind your step for that ugly smear at the base of the tallest tree you've ever seen is actually her.

But a hand reaches down, fists the fabric of her light sweater and hoists her emaciated figure up. The hunter easily sets her beside him and she's too busy sucking down breaths and avoiding looking at the ground to thank him. She turns and settles her back against the trunk, her eyes tightly shut. The branch is surprisingly wide, allowing her to sit with her legs crossed. Just don't think about it, don't think about it… The hunter purrs softly to her and she allows the quiet vibrations to soothe her tremulous mind.

Above, the stars twinkle and the moon is full, allowing a flood of pale light to illuminate the world. Josie stares up at the moon's face, traces the slight craters she can just make out, and can feel her heart begin to calm. With the heat of the sun gone, a cool wind is swirling, making her teeth chatter and her limbs to shiver. Her shoulders are just beginning to lower as the tension leaves her when a wall of unimaginable heat encompasses her. And just like that she's as rigid as the tree she leans against. "What are you doing?!" she squeaks.

The hunter is leaning fully against her, purring an uproarious storm into her chest, the absolute opposite from the murder machine he'd been only an hour ago. His face is buried against her neck, his cold nose tracing the line of the vein there. Instinctually, she prepares for a bite. But he merely tucks his face closer against her, wrapping his arms around her sides and pulling her slight weight closer until she's nearly in his lap, trapping her arms between their chests. "Please let me go…" she whispers. All of this movement. The branch, what if it breaks? She unintentionally looks down and gasps quietly as the distance below stretches into miles. "…Don't let me go," she amends as she pushes further into his hold. If anything would be able to catch her if she fell, it'd be him.

Besides... his feverish heat is nice, she thinks distantly, warding away the chill of the night. The hunter rests his chin against her shoulder, his throat vibrating softly. Josie's eyes lid as she revels in the touch and heat and slowly, ever so slowly, she rests her temple against his shoulder, pausing for a moment for a reprimand of some kind. But if anything, he's encouraging her with the way his purring kicks up a notch.

She blinks lazily and almost submits to the sleep that calls for her. But then a flash of silver, right in front of her face, catches her eye. She zeros in on it, her eyes widening. The hunter hadn't allowed her to look at the chain before, but now… she's so close. Chewing her lip, she wriggles her hand, tracing up his chest slowly. He tenses against her but allows the movement, though his rumbling has shallowed. She continues to slide her fingers further up until, so close… there. She slowly lifts the chain that dips into the hollow of his throat before disappearing deeper into his hoodie. She pauses, realizing he no longer makes a sound. "Hunter…" she cautions. His purr rises for a moment before dipping. "I won't hurt you," she soothes. The weight of his chin against her shoulder increases as he settles further against her, leaning into her until her back is pressed against the tree trunk.

She reorients herself in this new position, then ever so slowly, she retrieves the chain, pulling it up until, finally, two dog tags with rubber silencers are revealed. She greedily closes her fingers around the metal warmed with his heat. Shaking for reasons she's unsure of, she slowly maneuvers the tags so that she can see what is written. Her thumb runs along the words there, tracing them with a reverence normally reserved for rosaries.

Her father had been in the army, as had his father. He'd had identification tags just like this one, and she knew the particulars and what they meant. Her father had told her a soldier would wear two. If he fell in battle, his comrades would take the first one for notification. The second would be left on the fallen body for identification. A macabre practice, though a necessary one. On it would be written a social security number, religious preference, blood type. But she didn't care for any of that. He has a name. He's suddenly, undeniably and absolutely human in her eyes, more than she'd ever thought possible.

She traces his name, over and over and over again, mouthing it silently and liking the feel of it on her tongue.

Remi Jacques.


	8. Chapter 8

Josie's return to consciousness is slow, peaceful, warm. Her eyes flutter delicately open only to immediately shut when the strong golden rays of morning light nip at her. She revels in the first time she's woken naturally in what feels like forever, no screaming tank or raging infected jerking her from sleep. She's roused only by the warmth of the sun. And the hunter leaning against her, still pushing her into the bark of the tree and cradling her with his sheer size.

She'd fallen asleep with her hand closed over his tags and he'd permitted it, never moving too far from her to pull them from her grasp. Remi Jacques. Jacques Remi. Remi. Jacques. She sings the words through her head and squints at the large figure huddled against her, his chin still pressing into her shoulder as his back slowly rises and falls with deep, restful breaths.

Josie had never thought the infected could sleep before he'd come along.

Her gaze lazily slides from him to accidentally glance across the ground and is quite suddenly reminded of her height, and her subsequent, terrible fear of it all. Her limp, relaxed figure turns rigid and almost immediately a humming growl rumbles from him instinctively. She hesitantly reaches her hand from between them to pat his back urgently. He tenses at her touch and the rapid motion of it.

"Hey…" she croaks. He purrs softly at her strained voice and she begins to insistently push at his chest with her other hand. "No, stop. Enough of that. We need to get down from here." His arms begin to tighten and his purring kicks up a notch. "No," she hisses, punctuating her word with a particularly hard shove against his broad chest.

He pulls away from her, loosening his arms from her waist, his hood casting a long shadow over his face as he stares at her.

She glares at him, challenging him. "We are getting down. Now."

***

Josie stumbles over a branch and quickly rights her step only to receive a tear in her jeans as she backs into a barbed bush. She grumbles angrily and readjusts her pack over her shoulder, fingering the torn fabric.

She'd only briefly glanced at the map once she'd reached the base of the tree after what felt like an hour of treacherous descent. Her heart had raced with lingering fear and the crinkled paper trembled with her fingers as she traced the printed lines. According to the map, a river shouldn't be too far ahead but she's yet to hear its gushing notes. All she's found is tangled underbrush that has a fondness for wrapping around her feet and sending her crashing to the forest floor. She'd already skinned the tip of her chin when she hadn't caught herself in time.

The hunter creeps above her, leaping from branch to branch and occasionally sending a shower of pine needles with their almost alcoholic smelling fragrance or dried leaves to fall upon her head. She'd in turn scold him half-heartedly and pluck the debris from her hair to hide her amusement. His company, blunt and close and warm, is beginning to nurture a fondness in her heart. So long without companionship, his closeness and insistent touches are almost overwhelming for her solitary nature. But he keeps his distance at times as well, enough to allow her to finally breathe normally for once, something she's grateful for.

She steps through a circle of speckled red mushrooms and disturbs a bed of weeds as she passes, sending their glittering spores to sparkle in the golden light streaming through the canopy above. The forest is as beautiful as a picture and Josie holds its scent of growth and sap deep in her lungs, cherishing the sweetness of it all. Here, in the heart of the woods, one could almost imagine the world was normal, that no infection had ever existed, that humanity hadn't literally torn itself apart in the matter of a few weeks.

She's just getting ready to stop and retrieve the map from her bag when a crash in the undergrowth ahead stills her. A blue jay in the distance sounds a shrill warning call and a crow begins to scold. She drops into a crouch, ducking her head low as she intently searches for the source of the noise, fingering the hilt of her blade at her thigh. Another crash, and a tearing noise sounds, staying in the same position.

Her eyes glance upward fleetingly but no hunter is to be found. How does he just disappear like that? Steeling her nerve, she begins to move through the undergrowth, picking her steps with care and only resting her weight on the mossy ground. She creeps towards the noise, the crunching and tearing and gnawing growing louder as she does.

She's debating turning around, or even going around when a clearing is peeked through tangles of limbs and thin tree trunks. She pauses, hidden in the shadows, and squints. The source of the noise is in that clearing. She moves just a few feet forward until she can see whatever is causing the noise.

Her heart beats slower as her stomach twists peculiarly. Her eyes lid and her shoulders drop.

The infected doesn't even look up as she walks fully into the clearing, not even bothering to mask her footfalls. It's too busy sticking its face into a tiny stomach to bother with her. Josie wraps her hand around its neck and jerks it away from the sprawled body, holding it still as she repeatedly plunges the steel into its throat and heart and stomach until its ragged gasps grow silent. She lets its slight weight drop from her fingers and she mechanically cleans her knife with its clothing.

Just before she moves on, though her mind protests, she stops to consider the tiny fawn sprawled along the forest floor. Its neck is broken, its soft brown fur mottled with the white spots of its youth spattered red. Its deep brown eyes are still wet, staring up at the canopy with its stomach opened and ribs cracked. A shadow moves in the embrace of the trees and Josie's gaze is drawn to it. The doe stares at her, her wide eyes inscrutable. Josie frowns back, wavering at the somberness in the mother's countenance. She regards the fawn once more, steps away from its corpse with a bowed head, then turns and disappears further into the forest, following the faint sounds of rushing water and leaving the mother to her grief.

No. There is no escape from the infection of the world. It follows her, even into the deepest heart of the forest, killing anything it touches.

***

Her mood gradually lifts at the sight of the sparkling river, glittering in the sunlight and babbling incoherently as its aquamarine waters rush across polished rocks and mossy logs to disappear past the bends of the forest. It isn't particularly deep, only three feet or so, shaded on all sides by towering trees and raised sides.

Josie quickly falls to her knees and leans forward, ducking her head into the chilled water and taking deep sips. The chilled water is sweeter than any sugar she's ever tasted and the feel of dirt and sweat sliding from her face and neck is heaven. Once her stomach feels close to bursting, she leans back, sated and lazy, and flops on her back on the side of the river, lounging against the soft grasses there and closing her eyes against the midday sun as her hair drips dry. A ponderous, tuneless hum leaves her as she threads her fingers through the moist grass, enjoying the warmth of it all. Her lilting melody dies in her throat when a shadow darkens her vision. Her brow quirked, she opens her eyes to find the hunter leaning over her, peering down into her eyes.

She startles for only a moment before relaxing, his looming presence a quickly growing familiarity. His metal tags dangle from his neck where she'd forgotten to tuck them back into his hoodie. Remi Jacques. She hums curiously. "Your name sounds French," she muses. He slowly sits down, still leaning over her and blocking the sun, rendering him a dark silhouette. "And the fleur," she reaches up to caress the symbol patched over his heart, "and the colors." Her fingers slowly trail down to grab his wrist, pulling it close to her face and tracing his sleeve, the black and the muted gold lining of the fabric there.

The impressive claws flex then curl into a fist as he allows her to act out her peculiar attentions. "You must be from Louisiana," she muses. "Cajun, by the sound of your name. My swampy French neighbor," she smiles. "We're both a long way from home, aren't we?"

He rumbles softly as her fingers trail across his clothed wrist, tracing the impression of sturdy bones there. She slowly sits up, giving the hunter time to move out of her way, and kneels across from him, his wrist still trapped between her fingers. She swallows and wonders if anything will come of saying it. Is there still humanity within him? Would a spark show if she spoke the words?

His gaze is riveted on her fingers on him, following their trailing path intensely. She chews on her lip, loathe to disturb their peace, then quietly says, "Remi?"

Not even a twitch of a muscle to represent he heard her. Nothing to betray a hint of humanity residing within his fevered mind. "Remi…?" she sings his name softly as if trying to wake him from a deep sleep. She supposes that's exactly what she's doing.

Nothing besides the river's inane chattering beside them.

An almost desperate want curls within her gut and she leans forward, gripping his wrist tightly. "Please. Please respond to me." Images of the massacred fawn flash through her mind, it's and the thousands of other glazed, infected, dead eyes she'd seen, all of the death, all of the insanity. A loneliness brought on by her own humanity murmurs in her, and she shies away from its grip. But the sadness consumes her all the same, along with the desperation. "Can you hear me, Remi? Remi Remi Remi… please," she tries. His gaze lifts for only a brief moment, curious at the words that pour out of her with increasing emotion. At the sight of her evident distress, a rumbling purr builds in his chest.

Josie sighs softly and drops her head. "You're not in there anymore, are you?" She raises her eyes and gazes upon him softly, sadly. "The infection took both your mind and your name. All of who you once were." He purrs and cocks his head and she smiles sadly, a resignation pooling in her gut that quells the desperate fire that roared for human companionship. "Who were you, Remi Jacques?"

The purr stutters in his throat and he quietens, his body going rigidly still. She mirrors him, unsure of what she'd done wrong, wondering if she'd been too complacent with him, too relaxed and unguarded. His eyes, though veiled from her, seem to be staring holes into her own, the intensity of it all making her heart beat faster. Hesitantly, she lifts her hand, her fingers reaching for him.

"Remi?" she whispers, gripping his shoulder and gently rocking him back and forth. "Jacques?" she tries, instead. Under her hand she feels trembles wrack his frame, his barely visible mouth parting as he grimaces, revealing glinting canines. "Jacs…"

A sound she's never heard from him slides from his throat. A sort of pitched, plaintive whine. His head falls forward and he gently pulls his hand from her fingers to grip his head. Alarmed, she sits forward, her heart racing in her chest. He groans softly, a decidedly human sound, and shakes his head back and forth dazedly, gripping at his head and slumping forward. She roughly grabs his shoulder and rubs the fabric there, almost petting him as he continues to groan. "You're in there, aren't you…" she realizes, breathless. At least, something is in there. Something present enough to make him respond to his surname. The words rest on the tip of her tongue but she swallows them back down. By the noises he makes, he's in pain, and its best she does not continue to stir it up. The brief glance of humanity had been enough for her. For now.

From the distance, a strange trilling sound resonates. A bird perhaps? She ignores it and scooches closer along the grass, "Are you alright?"

His tense shoulders impossibly wind up even further, a growl beginning to rumble louder and louder in his chest. His gaze slowly raises once more, settling on her own and his arms fall forward. His teeth are still bared, and now small snarls are breaking the monotony of his growling. Josie is completely still, unwilling to move lest she provokes him into attacking. She doesn't know what about hearing his name set him off, why he is suddenly so aggressive, but she knows the situation has taken a one-eighty towards lethal. When she slowly begins to inch backward, his teeth snap hollowly together and he tenses further, so she hesitantly stills once more, her heart racing.

A movement in the peripheral of her vision almost makes her turn her head but he snarls savagely, making her keep her gaze on him. This is not the same person that had followed her miles upon miles through the apocalypse. This is… something new. More primitive, angry. Feral.

She notices his thighs tense, his feet slowly gathering underneath him as he curls into himself. Getting ready to spring, she realizes.

It is her speed, honed by years of necessity, that saves her life.

She flings herself to the right just as he lunges forward, his arms outstretched and claws bared, ready to rip her to pieces. She sputters as she stands up in the river, the water crashing against her knees. "Hey!" she shouts angrily as her limbs shake with adrenaline. He turns, though not towards her. He's pacing, looking every which way around the forest, glancing up at treetops and peering around the bends of the river, constant guttural snarls and raging growls issuing from his chest as if he can't push his rage out fast enough.

Unstable unstable unstable, her mind keeps screaming the word.

He continues to pace until he notices she's backed herself all the way across the river. He stills for a moment, his growling pausing before starting up even louder. She unsheathes her knife as he begins to make his way towards her, splashing through the river. "You need to calm your raging ass down," she hisses, though she cannot help the tremor of fear that shakes her voice. Having the fevered man suddenly turn on her, being the subject of his rage, is much more unnerving than she'd ever thought possible. He's only feet away now.

Another peculiar sound, loud enough this time that she can locate where it comes from. A whistle, she realizes. The hunter seems to notice it the same moment she does.

She almost doesn't believe her eyes, the glint as glass catches the sunlight, the figure crouched on the branches of a towering tree, clad in black swat gear, or the man that peers through the scope of his sniper rifle. Her hunter turns to regard this new threat, his teeth bared as a primal roar tears from him, the most rage-induced sound she's ever heard, more terrifying than the tank could ever hope to be.

The man in the tree whistles again, a long peeling sound, and a shot rings as he fires, temporarily deafening her as crowds of birds scatter from their branches. Her hunter's shoulder is flung backwards and he stumbles, a gush of black blood pouring from the newly made gunshot. The huge slug created a massive crater in the hunter, wide enough that a flash of ivory is revealed. Bone.

"No!" Josie screams, waving her hands at the man in the tree. "Stop!" She swears she can see the swat man perk up at her voice, glancing at her. But the hunter makes the man pay his full attention to him as he prepares to lunge forward, roaring again. His momentum is completely depleted as another echoing shot rings through the forest. He stumbles forward, reaching to clasp the hole in his side as he raggedly breathes.

Stunned and terrified, it takes her a moment to realize the shot had come from another direction entirely. When she raises her eyes again, she finds the trees are almost completely filled with people. There must be at least fifteen of them, all clad in the same black swat gear, all of them with scoped guns pointed at the hunter, who continues to weakly snarl, craning his head left and right to face the widespread threat, his blood pouring into the river to taint it a ruddy black.

Another echoing shot, but no blooming crater of flesh in the hunter. Her trembling vision takes in the glint of glass sticking from the hunter's neck the moment before he tears it from his skin, flinging the dart away as he roars. Josie wants to scream and yell and beg for his life, but words refuse to come. Wordlessly, she gathers her feet under her and stumbles forward, reaching the hunter just as another shot rings out.

Another dart, sticking from his shoulder, which he weakly snarls at. Before he has a chance, she tears it from his skin herself. A weak, wheezing snarl issues from him as he begins to waver, his legs giving out underneath him. He crashes into the water in a kneeling position, his head slowly slumping forward as whatever had been in the darts enters his bloodstream, the river parting around him. Sleep darts? They must be powerful, to render him immobile so quickly. She grabs his uninjured shoulder and shakes him. "Hey, please…" she whimpers raggedly, unsure what she's begging for.

His growls are slowly muting, dying in sound until they're only a faint vibration that she can feel underneath her trembling fingers. Only the sound of the river remains, bubbling happily along.

"Miss?" an authoritative voice rings out in the now still clearing and she shudders harshly at the sound of another human voice. Startled and trembling in her unexplainable fear, she crouches down into the river until she's hovering beside the hunter, nearly behind him, pressing her chest into his back. The hunter weakly pants, her body moving with his harsh breaths as his back rises and falls. "Miss? Can you understand me?"

Her own breath quickens when she sees a man emerge from the tree line further ahead. With wide eyes, she observes the first human she's seen in years.

He's large, perhaps even bigger than her hunter. A black goatee hangs from his chin and he wears a tank top that reveals buff tattooed arms. In his hands, a .12 rests, the shotgun ready to take a hole out of her. He must be the leader of this band of soldiers. He cuts an overall menacing figure, something she'd not expected when she'd imagined what it would be like to encounter another survivor. "Tu hablo, uh, hablas espanol?" he tries instead in an awful Spanish attempt as he continues to approach confidently.

Her hunter slowly raises his head, a truly monumental effort it seems for the amount of strain and time it takes him, and a weak, quivering growl rumbles from him. Against her chest the muscles in his back tighten.

The soldier frowns and looks up at the treetops. "Can I get another?" Before he's even finished speaking another shot rings out and her hunter jerks against her before sagging forward once more, the dart emptying quickly into the skin of his neck.

"Lady?"

She raises panicked eyes once more to the man, having been plucking the dart from the hunter and inspecting his extensive injuries. Her hand disappears beneath the water and she grabs up her blade from its sheath as she struggles to stand, yielding it high so that the soldier will see her threat.

And indeed he does, pausing momentarily before he raises his hands as if in surrender. "Hey there, darling, no need for that. Calm down, now." She snarls weakly, her words refusing to come as terror consumes her. What did they plan to do to her? To her hunter?

"Man," the soldier shakes his head and raises his .12 to rest on his shoulder. In an almost regretful tone, he calls up to his fellow soldiers. "She's feral. Let's get her to calm down a little." She doesn't even hear the shot over the racing blood in her ears, but she feels the sharp jolt of pain in her clavicle. Gasping, she scratches it out of her skin, noting with terror the vial is already emptied. Almost immediately, her vision begins to darken as her muscles waver. She blinks groggily as the knife slips from her limp fingers to drop into the river. Her heart begins to slow as she sags forward, completely leaning against the hunter's still body.

Before her vision turns completely black and she is subject to a spinning void of darkness, she sees the soldier stop at the river's edge, coldly evaluating her and her hunter both.


	9. Chapter 9

Josie's head throbs, like her brain has turned into a zombie and is clawing at her skull to be let out. She wakes abruptly, immediately sitting up. At least, she tries to.

The creak of something catches her and drags her back to a prone position. Confused, she slowly forces her eyes open to observe what holds her.

Leather straps, winding over her chest and hips and ankles, and leather manacles tied around her wrists, all strapped to a metal bed frame. A hospital bed, she realizes. The leather creaks as she tests its give, pulling and tugging and jerking at her bindings as her heart begins to pick up speed. Where is she?

"Sleeping beauty's finally awake."

Josie startles harshly, all of her muscles trembling to attention. A matronly woman is stood at the doorway of the small room, which looks altogether hospital-esque. The old woman is even wearing an old-fashioned nurse uniform, complete with a little pillbox hat sat upon her white hair. Josie can only stare at the woman's polite smile.

"My name's Nancy," the nurse says kindly, walking towards Josie's bed and looking down on her. Every defensive instinct in Josie's body is screaming, being stood over by a stranger while she is completely helpless. "Are you feeling better?"

Josie eyes the woman cautiously then pointedly begins tugging at her bonds. Nancy gets the message. "Oh, those… don't worry, as soon as we deem you not a threat, I'll untie you. Jason said you gave him some issues out in the field." Nancy rolls her eyes, "He thinks everyone is giving him trouble, though. In fact, one time a boy-"

Josie's eyes are beginning to cross as the words continue to stream out of Nancy's painted red, wrinkled lips. It's an altogether overwhelming experience, going from complete solitude in an apocalypse to what almost feels like she's stepped in time back into the modern world. There's even a little machine hooked up to her, something she realizes when the bleeping ticking sounds catches her ears. She twists in her straps to watch the heart monitor, trailing the quick green blip that is her heartbeat. Electricity…

Nancy's defeated sigh grabs Josie's attention. The old woman appears put out, almost. "Can you understand a word of what I'm saying, honey?" Josie contemplates this. Would it be better to play the mute? After all, she didn't know these people nor their intentions. But a thought occurs to her. Jacs… where is Jacs? The monitor betrays the way her heart speeds up with her worry. They'd shot and drugged him and… then what? She doesn't remember anything.

No use in the mute act, then. There is no information to be gained by passively sitting in a hospital bed. "My…" her voice is a croak and she must clear her throat a few times. Nancy hurries to a utilitarian sink in the corner and brings back a small dixie cup filled with water.

With Nancy's aid, she downs the entirety of the water then tries again. "My… I'm Josie," she whispers.

Nancy's smile is heartbreakingly kind. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Josie."

"Finally?"

"You've been out for three days."

Josie feels dizzy for a moment then slowly nods, dredging through her memories, attempting to remember the many lessons in manners she'd forgotten, the small nuances expected in a conversation. Nancy seems to notice Josie's hesitance and her nervous countenance, because she murmurs, "Josie… how long have you been alone?"

Josie pauses, her mouth opening and closing. Her lip trembles before she steels herself. No weakness in front of strangers. "Since the beginning."

It was as if she'd told Nancy her dog had died. The woman's saddened, horrified expression transformed into "poor baby"s and "oh my lord"s. "Let me get you out of those, oh you poor thing." As soon as the leather straps are removed, Josie retracts her arms and rubs her wrists. "Alone... except for the hunter," Josie ventures, looking for recognition in Nancy. She needs to find out what became of him. A certain absence in her chest is aching at the thought that he could be… that he might be… no.

Nancy tilts her head. "The hunter?... Oh! The subject! Well, after Jason recovered it-"

"That's enough, nurse." Nancy and Josie both jump. A doctor is peering through the door, a clipboard tucked against his side. He's middle-aged with a no-nonsense expression permanently tattooed on his face. "So you're talking now," he observes unnecessarily, approaching the bed and making a quick note on his clipboard. "Now-" He stops himself as he truly inspects her. His lip raises in thinly concealed disgust. "Miss…"

"Josie," Nancy interjects brusquely, then ducks her head to avoid the doctor's gaze.

"…Josie," he repeats, glancing at the nurse, "when's the last time you've uh… bathed?"

Josie sits up, affronted. Her anger inspires the words that leave her, easily and without stumble. "That's a forward question. And I don't yet even know your name, sir."

The doctor has the decency to look ashamed and he hastens to say, "You can call me Doctor Stuart."

"Well, Stuart-"

"Uh, Doctor St-"

"Stuart," she hisses. "Seeing as it is the apocalypse, I've found my schedule has rendered me very little time to soak in a tub and run a loofah through my toes. I was busy wondering when my next meal would come, or if I might see the light of the next day."

"I didn't mean to offend-"

Her headache pounds harder and words that she'd normally hold back seethe from her lips. "Of course you fucking did."

Stuart is beginning to grow angry, clearly unused to being talked down to by patients. "This is not the time to be cursing, Josie."

Josie gets out of the bed, trembling on rubbery legs but holding her stance, moving forward into the doctor's face. He wrinkles his nose at what must be her smell. "This is the goddamn end of the world," she growls much like a certain hunter. "I can't think of a better time to swear. Now where is my fucking hunter, so I can get the hell out of here?" she hisses, shoving his chest and leaving a patch of dirt where her fingers touch him.

Stuart steps away, rubbing his chest and glaring at her. "Nurse." Nancy perks up. "Make sure Josie here is cleaned." He looks at her, up and down with a grimace. "Thoroughly."

Josie begins to advance on him once more, curling her hands into fists. This motherfucker-

He hastily backs away from her, holding up his hands in supplementation. "A-and afterward, you can visit with the subject- er, your hunter."

A rushing relief makes her sag. "So he's alive," she breathes.

The doctor harrumphs and tries to wipe away the dirt from his coat. "Of course he's alive. As if we'd kill that thing, after the amount of time we invested in it." He continues to mutter as he hastily exits the hospital room, his white coat fluttering at his ankles.

A hand rests on Josie's shoulder and she immediately cringes away from the touch. Nancy smiles guiltily, hastily retracting her hand. "Sorry about that." Josie slowly nods, feeling ridiculous for her overreaction to touch. Jacs had literally leaned on her, cradled her in his arms. Why did Nancy's touch, the touch of a not cannibal, sane lady, bother her so?

Nancy, however, doesn't seem too offended. "How about a shower?"

***

Despite knowing that Jacs is safe, Josie rushes through her shower. At least, she plans to, until the warm water hits her bruised and battered skin. She groans long and loud, ecstasy filling her senses. Running water. Warm running water. The water that leaves her body to pour down the drain is turned black with dirt.

Nancy had led her to a shower block with what must have been twenty shower stalls, though not a one of them was occupied. It reminded her of a prison, and not for the first time she wonders where she is. She'd asked Nancy, but had only gotten a stumbled, "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you. I'm sorry."

Josie didn't worry, though. She's sure she can pressure that weasel doctor into divulging the location, and why in the world they'd brought her and Jacs here. What could they possibly want with a girl and a hunter? And why did they keep referring to him as a subject, like some kind of science experiment?

As the dirt continues to slide down her skin, she truly takes a moment to look at herself. Gods, but she is dirty, isn't she? Her hands are completely black as if she'd covered them in coal. She can't even see her fingernails. And her hair. So much gunk and unidentifiable substances are pouring from the strands there, probably body parts from the dead. She tries not to think about it too much.

Before she's through with her shower, she uses two bottles of shampoo- another commodity she marvels at, one that smells like strawberries. Josie had sniffed at the precious, gooey substance so hard that a little had gotten in her nose- and a whole container of conditioner and body wash.

When she exits the shower stall, she finds her old clothes gone. In their place, a pair of black sweatpants, beige underwear, and a white sports bra and a tank top. The clothes, though extra small, drapes over her emaciated figure. She has to roll up the pants four times so they don't drag along the ground, though there's nothing to be done for the tank top that literally drapes from her. She'd once had a rather curvaceous figure, but the hunger has left her rather… scrawny. She resolves to simply not look down at herself.

Nancy greets her as soon as she leaves the shower block. "Josie I-" Her voice dies in her throat before a spark of recognition reignites her voice. "Josie?"

Josie panics, wonders if she put her underwear on over her pants or something. "What? What is it?"

Nancy shakes her head and smiles. "Nothing! You just don't look like the girl that was brought in. You clean up well!"

Josie doesn't have time for this nonsense, and the praise makes her feel uncomfortable. "Where is he? Where's Jacs?" Nancy's smile evens out but her eyes still glitter.

"Aren't you hungry? When's last you've had a meal?"

"Jacs first." Her voice is unyielding, uncompromising. She's seeing her hunter.

Nancy nods understandingly. "Follow me," she requests. Josie complies, following the flighty old woman through the luminescent halls of what must be a hospital building of some kind, though she's yet to see any windows. As they take many turns and corners, passing closed doors and a few doctors that keep their heads down, Nancy smiles out of the corner of her eye. "You're cute!"

Josie's cheeks redden despite the stoic façade she attempts to keep up.

The situation turns from strange to downright weird when Nancy leads her down a dark stairway. The lights are still on, fluorescent bulbs that hum with electricity, but they are dimmed eerily. The linoleum floors give way to cold concrete, and the wooden doors are replaced with solid steel doors, massive things with complicated locks on them lining both sides of the halls.

Josie takes this all in with a quickly beating heart, wondering at what she's gotten herself into.

Stuart stands further down the dim hall, standing in front of a door with the number 9 engraved into the metal. He's writing in that damned clipboard of his, his pen flying. There's another person, too. The soldier from the forest, the one who shot her and Jacs.

Anger fills her breast and she stops walking. Nancy continues on, oblivious, but the soldier notices her. "Why isn't she in chains?" He demands, taking a step forward and reaching towards his back where his .12 is holstered. Josie tenses at his blatant aggression but a masculine sigh from behind her makes her stiffen.

"Put it away, Jason."

Jason immediately responds, straightening to ramrod attention like a soldier before a general. "Sir." He barks.

Josie turns to find a large fellow quickly approaching. He's middle-aged, his black hair greying at the temples. His stern expression is, in turn, assessing her. "She the one?" He calls to Stuart, completely ignoring her as he walks past.

"Yes sir," Stuart nods quickly. "This is the girl that's been traveling with Subject 9 these last few days."

The man, obviously the leader around here, turns to look at her with a newly considering light. "Name?" He demands brusquely.

"Josie," she frowns.

The man nods quickly, taps his chest with his hand. "Call me Abe. Now, formalities over with, do you have any idea what you've done?"

Josie stutters for a moment before glaring. "No, I don't know anything. One moment I'm sat next to a river, the next your dogs are shooting me and my companion."

Abe guffaws loudly, the expression of mirth a strange sight on his dour face. "Companion! Hah!" He snorts and wipes his nose with his finger. "Is that what you call it?"

She's insulted, not for herself but for her hunter's sake. "It has a name. Jacs."

Abe seems to have lost his brief stint of mirth, now gazing at her with pity. "My girl, you truly don't understand, do you?"

Josie is so lost she doesn't even bother to respond.

Abe nods sharply and turns to Stuart and Jason. "Open the door. Let the girl see her companion."

Josie perks up though she tries not to seem too eager. Something is terribly wrong about these people.

Stuart withdraws a huge ring filled with massive copper keys and flicks through them. He inserts it into the lock and with a screech of metal, the door is unlocked. It swings open slowly, eerily. Inside there's nothing but complete darkness. Abe gestures her towards the door as if he were a gentleman. She hangs back with sudden reservations, wringing her hands together. "What is this?" she ventures slowly, hating the tremor of uneasiness that quivers her voice.

Abe loses all of his false pretense and gestures impatiently towards the darkness. "Just get in the fucking room." Still she hesitates and Jason reaches out, gripping her shoulder unnecessarily hard and shoves her through the doorway. She lands on her hands and knees, scraping the skin against rough concrete. Jason and Stuart follow closely behind Abe as they too enter the room. Nancy stays behind.

Josie quickly regains her feet, nerves making her hands shake. Abe snaps at Stuart and the doctor hastily shuts the metal door behind them, leaving them in complete darkness. Only her harsh breaths are audible.

"Can we get some fucking light in here?"

"Yes sir! Sorry sir!" Stuart hastens to say, obviously scrambling with something. The doctor is a completely different person with Abe, bumbling and stumbling.

A screech as what sounds like a lever is pulled, and then bright artificial light floods into her eyes. She blinks black spots from her eyes, immediately tensing when a bone-trembling roar vibrates around them. "Stuart, take notes on this," Abe orders sternly. "Sir."

Finally, Josie's vision clears enough to see where she is. A small room, barely large enough to fit the three men and her. All of the walls are made of concrete, all except one. Thick plexiglass makes up the entirety of the wall, spanning from floor to ceiling.

Beyond it, a simple square room though it's impossible to tell anything beyond that. It's a complete void of darkness. It is from there the roar had originated. The glaring light above her just barely seeps into the dark room beyond the glass. A shadowed silhouette is barely visible, pacing on all fours at the other end of the room. It roars again, a monstrous sound. Josie slowly approaches the window, straining her eyes to see.

The silhouette paces, a litany of animalistic snarls and growls pushed from his chest, muted by the window. Abe chuckles and knocks his knuckles against the glass, startling Josie. "Hey, 9! Got your friend here! Want to come say hi?" Josie wants to turn and clock the arrogant ass in the jaw, but her concern for Jacs is too great to worry about others.

"Hey, girl, say something. I don't think it can recognize you now that you actually look human."

Josie presses further into the glass, peering at the constantly pacing, muttering figure. Is he hurt? Why is he so aggressive?

"Girl," Abe sneers, reaching out and shoving her shoulder harshly. She yelps, startled at the unexpected touch. A raging shout answers her and the glass shudders as a figure launches against it, landing right where Abe is.

Everyone in the room jumps, startled, and Abe quickly retracts his hand from her to gaze intently at the hunter.

Josie is frozen, too busy taking in her hunter to pay attention to the others in the room. It's Jacs but… not.

His hoodie is gone, leaving him in only a pair of black sweats, the same as her own but much larger. He's bare-chested. And she can see his face. A strong jaw, angled and defined. Straight nose and arching brows. Black hair, cropped short, messy and tangled, and pale skin. And his figure is well-muscled, stocky with a tapered waist and broad shoulders.

The most striking feature, though, is his eyes. The sclera is bloodshot but his irises are golden. They seem to be glowing with their own internal light, the same color as molten gold, a color she's only ever seen in cats and wolves. Handsome, the voice in her head coos.

Josie figures he is, but his features are drawn into such a terrible, raging grimace, his unnaturally long teeth bared, that it's hard to tell. Jacs' golden eyes are alight with hatred as he snarls at Abe, dragging his claws down the plexiglass and leaving shallow gouges there.

His chest heaves as he shouts at the man, backs away from the plexiglass only to throw himself at it once more. Abe merely chuckles at the aggressive display, his hands held behind him as he watches the hunter's raging fit. Stuart subtly trembles, his pen shaking with his fear as he hastily scribbles along paper.

Josie steps forward and presses her hand against the glass, not even flinching as Jacs flings himself against the glass once more, his attention entirely consumed by Abe. "See this, girl?" Abe crows. "This is your companion. He's feral. As mad as a tank."

Josie ignores him, instead focusing on the barely healed gunshot wounds marring his shoulder and side. "Jacs…" she whispers, her heart breaking for the sick man.

His snarling ceases so suddenly the still silence that follows seems to ring. His head whips towards her as fast as a snake striking, and the force of his golden eyes on her own takes her breath away. "Jacs," she calls again. In her peripheral, she can see Abe's eyes narrowing and Stuart's jaw subtly drop.

The hunter slowly slides down the glass until he's crouching. He approaches where she stands, raising on his trembling legs until he's standing tall, towering over her, his clawed hands against the glass supporting his stance as he stares down at her. His gaze is an entirely different beast without a hood to obscure it, and she finds herself unsettled by him. If there was one word to describe her hunter, it would definitely be intense.

Black blood is slowly seeping down his side from the wounds he's reopened.

She turns angered eyes on Abe, "Why haven't you healed him?" She demands, shaking with her anger.

She quickly turns her gaze back to Jacs, unwilling to waste a second not watching him. At her obviously angered, distressed tone, Jacs cocks his head as he's done so many times before, his black hair shifting with him and golden eyes twinkling. The sight of it without his hood to obscure him makes her heart constrict with relieved fondness. Handsome! Her mind crows again.

"Heal?" Abe laughs, rudely intruding on her moment with her hunter. "The bastard heals quicker than anything we've ever seen. Damn near fucking bulletproof, unless you get the brain. Right, fucker?" He snorts though loses some of his fire when Jacs doesn't even respond, instead gazing steadily upon Josie, a look almost like adoration making his eyes shine.

She can just barely hear him through the glass, a muted growling- purring- so quiet, audible for her ears only.

A hand smacks the glass between them both, making her yelp and Jacs to rage. "This," Abe hisses, "is what we can't explain. This," he gestures at the snarling hunter whose anger is readily renewed, "this creature has all of the right qualities. Lithe, agile, can leap un-fucking-believable distances. Bulletproof. And we've been trying to tame these bouncing fuckers for years. Ever since the infection. Nothing worked. This," he gestures to Jacs, whose begun tearing at the plexiglass again, right at the spot where Abe's face is. "Is what we've had for all those years. Your little Jacs here killed fifteen of my soldiers before we could manage to capture him the first time. Big motherfucker." Abe shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of the ghosts of his memories.

Josie quells a bit at the number, the amount of death. She'd known he'd probably killed survivors, but to have it confirmed… it's unsettling. But he'd been acting in defense, hadn't he? They'd gone after him, intent on throwing him in this dark prison.

"He escaped." Abe continues, catching Josie's attention. "A month ago, right Stuart?"

"Uh, y-yes s-"

"And he killed more on his way out than he did coming in. Nearly lost him but we haven't completely forgotten the technologies of the old world."

At her peculiar gaze, Abe laughs. "Tracker. We've been tailing it for a long while. And we finally find him. And lo' and behold! The murderer of my men, the cannibalistic prick that took chunks out of my men's faces, tore their arms off like pieces of paper… is in the arms of a girl, and he's as tame as a kitty cat." Abe turns a disturbed look on her and for the first time, she registers a crazed lunacy there. "Who the fuck are you?"

Josie's brow drops with her rage. "What do you intend to do with him?" She asks, completely ignoring his question.

Abe grins crazedly and claps his hands over her shoulders, shaking her violently. Her teeth rattle and Jacs' roars turn into raging screeches as he doubles his efforts to get through the glass. Abe only barely acknowledges the hunter, smirking. "Seems your beau isn't too fond of me touching you."

"What," Josie hisses, "are you going to do with him?"

Jacs hurls his shoulder into the glass, his eyes wild as they dart between Abe and Josie, his teeth snapping together with a vicious hollowness.

Abe smiles. "With your hunter… I'm going to save the world."

Before she has a chance to further interrogate him, a cracking sound resonates through the tiny room.

Everyone completely stills, turning to look at the hairline fracture running down the plexiglass. Even Jacs has paused, looking at the crack. His face is so expressive, Josie marvels as she watches the play of emotions cross him. First, an almost disbelief, so misplaced and human on his exotic features. Then his rage seems to renew and he begins to throw himself at the glass, over and over with rasping snarls. Stuart squeals and is already setting to opening the metal door. Even Abe seems to lose some of his bravado. "Quickly," he barks as Jason throws the door open. Stuart cuts in front of them all, gasping his fear as he stumbles into the hallway.

Josie jerks against Abe's and Jason's hands as they grab her. She drags her heels, struggles against them, trying without luck to stay, to give Jacs more time to escape his prison and tear these fuckers apart. Though it's no good, the two men easily overpowering her. She cranes her head around, watching as Jacs movements grow more frantic. But the crack in the glass does not grow.

He finally stops, pressing himself close to the glass and watching plaintively after her as she is forced out of the room. "I'll come back for you!" she shouts, throwing a fist into Jason's cheek. "Jacs, I'll be back!"

Abe grabs her neck and throws her from the room, her last vision of plaintive golden eyes following after her with earnest worry.

She's thrown to the concrete hallway's ground. The metal door is quickly closed and the latch slams shut with a key. She huffs against the ground, her blood singing with purpose. She'd get him out. She'd get him out.

Abe begins laughing uproariously and she raises her eyes to see what has him giggling now. Stuart stands, his knees knocking together and his clipboard thrown at the other end of the hall. His black pants are stained with urine, a puddle forming next to his foot. Abe laughs some more while Jacs' muted, wailing roar emanates from beyond the metal to echo down the concrete halls.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the support! This chapter is pretty short so I'll try to update again soon.   
> Warning: Explicit, sexual language ahead.

"Honestly, I don't understand your obsession with that creature."

"Then don't try to."

"Really though," Nancy tuts as she folds a towel then places it on Josie's bed, "there are plenty of other things to keep your mind occupied. "Why don't you go make some friends?"

Josie sighs gustily and leans against the tiny dresser in her room. Ever since she'd shown the nurse a thread of kindness, Nancy has taken to treating her as if she were her child. And that included lectures of the more irritating sort.

"Listen, Nancy. I don't need friends. I don't want them. All I want is to take Jacs and leave. That's all."

Nancy's lips purse and she pauses in her folding of the stark white linens that were given to Josie to wear. The old woman raises her eyes and leans her hand on her hip. "Well, that isn't going to happen. Abe needs him for his research."

Josie doesn't deign that with a response, instead turning to observe the pristine ceiling above. They had this conversation innumerable times. This was becoming exhausting. Two weeks spent in this place. Mind-numbing time that crept slowly by. When she'd been outside, surviving, she'd used to dream of places like this. Safe havens, with food and people and warmth. But, for whatever reason in her unstable mind, this place only left her on edge, panicky, seeking for escape. She hasn't seen Jacs since that eventful day when she'd awoken. Nor had she seen Stuart or Abe since then, though Jason was a very prominent figure around here, constantly seen patrolling the halls with a menacing scowl.

In the weeks she's been here, she's managed to surmise that she was in a large hospital, filled almost to the brim with other survivors. Twelve floors full. Although the floor she stayed on, and the one below containing Jacs, were kept isolated from the others, the hospital's dirty secret. For food, they'd managed to plant gardens on the hospital's flat roof, and for water, they collected rainfall. As far as she knows, Abe is head honcho here. A self-sufficient ecosystem, a stifling prison.

Nancy suddenly approaches Josie, her wrinkled face puckered. Josie flinches and fights the instinctive lash out when Nancy grabs her chin and squeezes. "Listen here, sweet girl," Nancy whispers, "there's nothing you can do to get him out. You can't leave this place. You never will. And why would you want to? The best thing you can do is to integrate yourself with the others as quickly and smoothly as possible and to forget that creature immediately. Understood?"

Josie stares into her wizened eyes for a long moment, then sneers and pushes the old nurse's hand away. "You're not my mother," she growls and leaves her little room as quickly as possible, ignoring the hurt look that spreads across Nancy's face.

The hallways are kept clean, remarkably so. As always, Josie trails the air vents with a practiced eye, memorizes the near maze of twists and turns. She has to learn if she is going to get her hunter out of here. A rational part of her mind cringes. Why is she doing this to herself? Why is she risking a safe, happy life for the sake of a sick man? Why, why, why? She doesn't know.

"Hey! Jo Jo!" Josie sighs and turns around. A young man is trotting up to her, a genuine smile plastered on his face. Cody. He'd introduced himself the moment she'd walked into the small cafeteria, as eager as a puppy, as he invited her to sit with him. She hadn't said a word, instead choosing to turn around and skip a meal for that day. Cody has taken to following her whenever she spots her, trailing and yapping like a dog, eager to introduce her to everyone in the facility. "How's it hangin'?" he asks, pushing his pair of thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. Josie doesn't answer, instead walking faster. Maybe if she ignored him…

"Cat got your tongue?"

She sighs and turns around, uncomfortably running her hands over her white sleeved shirt. She's not used to this kind of attention. It makes her skin crawl and makes her wish only for the clear blue sky of the outside world. "What do you want?" She doesn't mean to sound so rude, but when her nerves take a hold of her so thoroughly, there's nothing to be done.

Cody raises his hands and chuckles, again pushing his glasses up his nose. "Easy tiger. Just wanted to ask you if you wanted to have lunch together?" Josie steps away from his leering presence and he unconsciously follows her.

Him following her around was bad enough. He'd talk about anything and everything that flitted through his mind. To actually have to sit down with him, no distraction, only his unending stream of words? She already has a headache just thinking about it. Nervously, she says, "No… no, thanks. I have, Nancy, um, needs me." Better the old woman than the foolish boy. She whirls on her heel and makes for her room.

"Hey!" He reaches out and grabs her elbow, jerking her until she falls back into his small chest. Her heart soars into her throat and she reacts without thought.

Twisting away, she ducks under his arm and delivers a fist into his throat while sweeping his legs out from underneath him, an easy task given his short and narrow stature. She scurries away from him, her heart racing as she trembles.

Cody gasps on the floor, holding a hand to his mouth where a thin line of blood runs. "Jesus fuck! What is wrong with you?" he squeals, curling into himself as the pain hits. Josie hurries away, her face burning in shame.

The overhead lights in this place buzz like a mass of upset flies. Bzzzzzz, a constant vibrating droning hum has nurtured a throbbing ache between her ears.

Josie begins to hum along with the lights as she stares at the locks for what must have been the third hour. Just beyond this lock lay the passage to the floor below and consequently Jacs. She tilts her head and peers into the slit. Could she picklock it? Probably not. She'd only ever seen the skill used in movies.

For the fifteenth time, she reaches out and jiggles the handle, then tugs at it, then finally heaves against it, her teeth bared. Finally, she leans back against the wall, sliding down it, to finally rest her head on her raised knees as she thinks through everything. Even if she did manage to get past this door, there was still the matter of his cell door, as well as the glass between them. She didn't know where the entrance into his cell was. But he'd cracked the glass, hadn't he? Only a minor crack, though… more thought was required. Josie continues to hum with the lights.

"God, she's fucking crazy…"

"Shh! She can hear you!"

"Like I care. I heard she fucked Subject 9. That's why she's so eager to get back to him. Is that right, crazy?"

Josie lifts her head. Two women are standing at the end of the hall. One looks uncomfortable, scratching at her arm and looking away. The other, however, has a sneer on her face. "Do you miss its diseased cock in you?! Hm?"

Josie turns back to staring at the lock.

"Chloe, don't!" Josie glances back to see 'Chloe' now approaching her, a haughty expression on her face, her friend shifting uncertainly behind her and checking the hallway for others. She stops a few paces from her. "So? What was it like? Rough? I imagine it would be, in the arms of a cannibal. How romantic! I bet your crazy ass just lapped it up." Chloe leans in and squints at Josie. "Does he growl when he cums?"

Josie scratches her cheek and looks away.

"Well?"

"Actually, he's very gentle. Holds me close, takes it slow, minds his weight and the claws. But other times, he can be rough, like you said." Josie lets a nasty grin take over her face and glares up at Chloe. "Best fuck I've ever had." Chloe steps back as if she'd been slapped, her eyes wide.

"You really are insane…" she mutters, stepping away. Josie giggles and lifts her hips in a rocking motion as she moans softly. Chloe disgustedly grunts and begins to hurry away. Just as she's about to turn the corner, Josie calls for her. "And Chloe?" Despite herself, Chloe turns around.

"He bites when he cums!"

Chloe's face blanches and she hastens away. Josie immediately loses her grin and resumes inspecting the lock. It wouldn't hurt to at least try to pick it, would it? What were they doing to him in there? Torturing him? Hurting him?

"Um…" Josie startles and looks up to find the other girl standing a few feet away, twirling her thumbs together. "Sorry about Chloe. She'd always been a little… um, brash."

Josie takes in the girls genuine expression then slowly nods.

The girl shifts again and her face begins to turn a bright red. "Um… you didn't actually…"

Josie stares up at the girl with a blank expression.

"…um… make lo-… that is, uh…"

Josie blinks.

The girl stares for a moment then giggles. "Of course not! Sorry I even asked. And um… I heard what happened between you and Cody and I just wanted to say…"

Josie sighs and pointedly looks at the girl. She sure is a chatterbox, isn't she? The girl blanches for a moment but hurries on. "Um… thank you. He's always hitting on the new girls. He thinks he's all that ever since he was promoted to security guard. And you tossed him on his butt!" The girl giggles. "Anyways! I'll- um, see you later, ok? And, uh, sorry again." The girl smiles timidly before giving one last uncomfortable glance at the door and Josie, then hurries away,

Josie relaxes back into the wall, sagging. All of this social interaction is wearing her out. She'd take an infected any day over a long winded talk. Funny, how wrong she'd been about what she wanted.

Now that she has some peace to think…

Josie blanches and sits up quickly. Security guard. She's such an idiot! With trembling hands, she rakes her hands through her hair and quickly stands. Stupid, stupid!

Security guard! Security guard equals keys. And she just punched those keys right in the throat…

Crap.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For future chapters, are yall interested in lemons/limes/ or just keeping it puppy love?   
> Thanks for all of the support!!  
> Next chapter will be in Jacs POV.

Josie saunters through the halls, peering down each linoleum plated hallway and crooning a gentle hum to match the buzzing fluorescent lights flickering above. Where, oh where could he be? For the umpteenth time that day, she smooths her shirt down, pressing her sweating palms against the faint wrinkles in the cotton. Her simple white sneakers set a tapping rhythm that echoes lonesomely through the halls. The sweet hum in her throat sputters as she passes a hall and she is quick to step back out of view. Josie breathes in deeply and tucks her hair behind her ears, then smooths her shirt once more.

Here goes.

"Cody," she greets in her softest voice as she rounds the corner and approaches the lone male figure at the end of the hall. Cody quickly looks up where he'd been inspecting his belt. His face turns white and he unconsciously palms the ugly bruise spread across his throat.

"What do you want?" he grunts, his voice pathetically wispy and strained from his injury. She continues to saunter towards him, her cheeks staining pink despite herself.

"I..." she pauses as he steps back from her. He clears his throat and pointedly reaches towards his waist where the hilt of a nightstick rests. He growls, "One false move and we'll see how pretty you are with a crooked nose and broken jaw."

Her mouth hangs open uncertainly as she fights her first impulse to backhand him. Remember why you're here, her mind reminds her.

"I'm awful sorry about that..." she demures as she rubs her hands together, allowing the honey sweetness of her accent to sugar her words. "I didn't mean to hurt ya as much as I did..." Here, she allows the full force of her blush to light her cheeks. She's probably as bright as a neon light. Cody watches her suspiciously, but little by little his hand is falling from his weapon.

"You almost crushed my larynx," he rasps.

"'m sorry..." She looks up from under her lashes and tilts her head, feeling fully ridiculous as she tries to pout her lips.

"Luckily no one knows about the incident, or I'd be punishing you for real."

Josie swallows her disbelieving snort and instead smiles pleasantly. "Well thank goodness that didn't happen. To be honest... the reason I hurt you..." Cody unconsciously leans further forward as she speaks. The moment she pauses he remembers himself and stands up fully. "You... well, I was uncomfortable around you."

"Really?" He squeaks then quickly clears his throat. "I mean... ahem."

She quickly saves him from his embarrassment. It wouldn't do to have him storming off. "It's just been so long since I've been in the company of such a... fine looking man as yourself." As she speaks, she steps closer and trails her fingers up his chest, lingering over the bruise she left. "When you grabbed me," she breathes, "the feelings in my heart just burst up and they escaped in a violent manner. Oh, sweetie," she coos, cupping his chin, "I'm so sorry." Cody stares down at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Is this for real?" he squeaks.

"Do you want it to be?"

"You're not going to hurt me?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"Of course." She tilts her head and bites her lip so that it swells into a sweet pout. "You like me, don't you?"

"Fuck yeah I do" he laughs like a teenager and pauses awkwardly before reaching for her to drag her closer.

Deftly, she ducks under his arms and steps away, looking coyly over her shoulder. This is going a lot easier than she'd expected it to.

Now, for the hard part. "I've got another secret," she whispers.

"Oh yeah?" Cody asks huskily, leaning forward towards her. She smirks.

"I'm sure you've heard the rumors about me?"

"That you're batshit insane?"

She pauses and allows her brows to fall into a glare.

"Uh! I mean- shit," he fumbles. "Not that you're insane! I've never heard that before in my life. What have I heard... um. Oh! You're, like, really into Subject 9... like, really into it." He pauses to see if he'd offended her again. When she neutrally tilts her head, he continues. "Those aren't true... are they?"

Josie smiles and tucks her hair back behind her ear. "Of course not, silly!" She giggles like a foolish high school cheerleader. "At least, not all of them." Cody's face, which had been relaxing, immediately morphs into distrust.

"It's just..." she continues and sighs frustratedly. "I don't know what's wrong with me but..." she swallows and rubs her thighs together. "The thought of the danger... the imminent death." She looks at Cody under her lashes as she breathes heavily.

Cody is staring at her. "You're a fucking masochist, aren't you? You get off on the danger?"

She smiles softly and bites her lip. "Exactly. And I really, really like you..."

"Shit." Cody runs his hands through his hair and adjusts his glasses. "Shit, shit, shit."

He looks around them for a moment then back at her. "I could get fired for this..."

She tilts her head as if she has no idea what he's insinuating. What a fool he is, playing right into her hands, and so easily at that. He must be truly desperate.

"Ok, come on." He grabs her arm and begins tugging her forward. She releases the tension in her muscles and breathes away the need to throw him away from her. It will all be over soon.

Cody leans past a corner then quickly tugs her along, pulling her off of her feet for a moment. She scrambles to keep up with him. For such a small man, he's pulling her around as if she were a ragdoll.

"Almost there," he whispers. "Wait." He pulls her back into his chest and unnecessarily covers her mouth. She cringes against the touch, even more so when he leans down and breathes into her ear. "This better be worth it...," he threatens.

She bites her lip and digs her nails into her palms. "That and more," Josie promises truly.

He grins and trails a hand over her stomach. Her smile becomes strained and her giggle is shrill and forced.

Cody doesn't notice. "Alright, come on."

Once more they are hurrying through the halls.

Josie had planned her seduction in accordance with the time when the halls would become silent, what she could only guess meant nighttime has fallen. She has no true way of knowing with her lack of windows. Gods... what is she going to do when she gets Jacs out? She doesn't even know where the exit is... No. She shakes her head and focuses on the moment. She'll figure it out when she gets there.

Josie's heart fills with relief when the door to the cells comes into view. Only steel, a flight of stairs, more steel and plexiglass, then her hunter would be free.

She watches with unrestrained glee as Cody reaches into his waistband and procures a ring of keys. He flicks through them with haste, his fingers trembling in his excitement. He lifts one in particular and inserts it into the lock. The sound of the bolts sliding and releasing with a click makes Josie's heart soar. She hums, pleased.

A sound at the end of the hallway grabs both her and Cody's attention.

Chloe stands like a deer in the headlights, a mask of dried green paste spread over her face and fuzzy slippers adorning her feet. She's staring at them, her mouth gaping.

Josie freezes, her face going white. Cody stiffens at her side. "Go on, then," he growls, straightening as if his small stature would scare the girl away. Chloe begins to sidepass, obviously eager to get away. "You didn't see a thing," Cody calls after her as she hurries away, still wide-eyed.

Josie drags a hand through her hair as her heart drops to her stomach. "It's ruined," she mourns softly.

"What are you talking about?"  
"Chloe knows. She's gone to tell someone. Probably Jason. It isn't safe to go down there." If they hurried away now, maybe they wouldn't get in trouble... shit! Of all the things that could happen, of course Chloe would be the one to ruin it all. Jacs would just have to wait another night.

Cody balks. "Not safe? I'm the head of security, everywhere I go is made safe because I'm there."

Josie is tired of him and his breath that smells of garlic, which continually puffs into her face in unpleasant wafts. She shoves his chest, sending him stumbling away. "You idiot," she hisses. "The night is failed. We'll have to try again some other time. Now give your ego a rest and come find me some other time."

She turns on her heel and walks away, muttering the whole way. She'd probably have to wait a whole week before it would be safe to try again... What would happen to Jacs in a week's time? Who knew what sick things Stuart and Abe were putting him through.

A solid crack rings in her ears. Josie blinks and shakes her head. She opens her eyes, not having realized she'd closed them, only to find that she's no longer standing but rather slumped against the floor. Groggily, she looks upward, her movements sluggish and as if in slow-motion.

Cody stands over her, pocketing his nightstick and reaching down to thread his arms underneath her own. He grunts as he lifts her, pulling her backward and through the door.

She's unable to move, no matter how hard she tries, and her head throbs dully with each attempt made. Cody is speaking, but his words are muffled behind what sounds like a river rushing through her ears. Something warm drips from her head and down her neck, staining her pure white shirt and sweatpants. Her legs are limp, useless, dragging in front of her as Cody hauls her down the narrow stairway. His arms tremble as he holds her. He's too weak to carry another human being. Before she has time to panic, a curse fills her ears and then the world is spinning.

Josie groans as her vision returns to her in flashes. She's at the bottom of the stairs and a puddle of red is slowly spreading below her. She groans softly, fearfully. She's so scared, but she's unable to do anything.

"Sh-. D-, o-!" Cody's words are gibberish to her, but they're slowly beginning to make sense as she blinks slowly up at him. "Fuck! Oh, shit, that's a lot of blood... Abe is gonna kill me! Fuck... I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean to drop you."

The pain is intense, riveting, blinding. Her body feels like a glass vase shattered upon the floor.

"Take..." she wheezes and coughs, "take me to... to Nancy... q-quickly..."

Cody runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head as he stands over her, staring at her.

"Co-...dy..." she implores.

He continues to shake his head. "Nobody can know about this. I'd be thrown out of here for sure. I can't go back out there. I can't! You... you understand, don't you?" Tears are trailing down his cheeks as she once more whimpers his name. "All of my friends died out there. My family." He sniffles pathetically and rubs away his tears. "I'm sorry... really, I am. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Before she has time to protest, he's leaning down and once more hooking his arms underneath her own. He begins dragging her backward, her head lolling uselessly to her chest. Her vision flutters as she's jerked backward, a thick trail of red smearing after her. Wet warmth stains her back from her own blood. Is this how she dies? Not by the infected, but by humanity? How poetic. She sighs softly, losing herself in the swaying rhythm as she is dragged somewhere so that her dying body might be hidden. What a turn this night has taken. From threading her own strings of fate only to have them snipped.

Who knows how long it would take for her to bleed out. Hours? Perhaps. But not if Cody decided to finish the job himself... No. He's too much a coward for that. She'll be lingering in pain for a while, she expects.

The rocking motion, like that of being on a boat, suddenly pauses. She doesn't know how long they wait but suddenly she's gently being laid back on the floor and Cody fills her vision. He runs his hand through his hair, smearing his cheek with her blood. There's something in his eyes. Something she'd only ever seen in that of the mad, of the infected. An evilness, a carnal greed.

He's holding his throat, where the bruise she'd given him blooms.

"Didn't you say... didn't you say you got off on this kind of stuff?" He tilts his head and a sick smile slowly spreads across his face. "You did, didn't you? What was it you said? On the danger of it all? The imminent death?" He chuckles coarsely and reaches down, tugging on her blood-drenched locks. She whimpers softly as he laughs. "This is pretty imminent if you ask me. Wouldn't it be a waste if I put you away now?"

He leans down, garlic-breath puffing across her face. "Why don't we play first?"

Josie's heart begins to tear through her chest, knocking against her ribs. "No..." she whimpers, "no."

Cody hushes her and produces his ring of keys. "Uno, dos..." he continues to flip through them until settling on one in particular. "Nueve," he grins, brandishing it like the cure for cancer.

Terror gnaws on her mind. No, please. Just let her bleed out. Don't debase her like this. Please. She wants to beg, she's not above it. But her swollen throat keeps her pleas trapped inside her chest.

The sound of a lock clicking fills her ears. Where just minutes before it had made her heart leap for joy, this time it only filled her with dread.

"Don't cry," Cody soothes as he roughly swipes away her tears. She cringes away from him as best she can.

He once more picks her up and carries her to her doom.

There's nothing she can do to stop it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long AN, sorry!: Not too sure about this one. Redid it a few times. It was harder than I expected to get inside Jacs' mind. If it comes off as neurotic/adhd/insane then good! That was my aim! And I received a virtually universal agreement that a physical relationship is accepted/expected. For any who would prefer not to read that, I'll put warnings in future chapters. Please don't expect it too soon, I'm fond of slow burns.
> 
> Please let me know how this chapter is received! Thank you all so much for continuing on this journey with me! Happy reading.

The softest of noises wakes him from the deep darkness. A quiet sound. Gentle. Gentle, like her. Warm, too, but strained.

A worried rumble rattles through his chest and echoes against the thick concrete surrounding him. Is it her? The girl? She's so soft. So gentle. So warm. So tiny. Where is she? She needs him, she's so small, she needs him to protect her, she needs him. _Where is she?_ Where is she where is she where is she where is…

The clear wall suddenly fills with light and Jacs leaps back and into the shadows as swiftly and silently as a striking snake. The light gnaws and chews on his eyes so he looks instead at his bare arms, where stitched cuts decorate the flesh there. He loses himself in the pattern of the thread, inspects the fraying edges of the fibers with pondering interest. Each time he awakes, new patterns adorn his skin. Sometimes his arms, sometimes his legs, sometimes his chest.

Another sound, louder this time. Steel sliding against steel. He knows that sound. Has heard it before. Last time, _she_ had appeared alongside it. Jacs perks up, his entire body tensing as he forces himself to look at the brightness. Is she there? Is she is she is she is she?... She'd been so scared before. So tiny, so frantic. There'd been other males around her. Touching her. Leaving their scent on her and depleting his own, replacing her sweet scent with their foul one.

Jacs' snarl echoes against the walls. They'd made her afraid, and he'd been unable to make her unafraid.

Beyond the clear wall, the wall parts amidst creaking hinges.

A male figure appears, grunting and dragging something inside. Jacs tilts his head. The door slams shut behind the male.

"Stay lucid, will you?" The male leans down and slaps the bundle of cloth. Jacs rumbles interestedly. What is that? What is that what is that what is…

The softest of noises. A quiet sound. Warm. But strained. A whimper. Her. The girl. The girl. His girl. His his his his…

She whimpers again and this time he can hear her clearly. Is that… pain? Is she in pain? Pain? What hurt her? Who hurt her? But she's so tiny. She _can't_ be hurt.

"Please…" she whispers. Jacs eyes lid immediately as her sweet voice fills his ears. But it's filled with pain. What? What?

The male leans down over the girl, his girl, his, and grabs her chin. "Shut up," the male hisses. "Just let me have this. You'll be dead soon anyway, so let me enjoy this. C'mon, you said you liked it." The male turns and squints feverishly into Jacs' cell, peering with his weak vision. "Where is the freak?" The girl begins to make another noise but is immediately silenced by a backhand from the male, sending her skull ricocheting against the ground.

Jacs' muscles stiffen painfully. The male attacked her?! Her?! His? She's in _pain, pain, pain_ …

And the male smells of lust, of musk, heady and thick as he moves to straddle her, as his disgusting hands touch her, caress her, claim her. The male intends to mate her? She's so _scared_ , so fragile and small in the face of this male's violent advances. Does the male not know? Does he not know? She's claimed! Claimed! His! Does he not know? She's so small, so tiny. One must be gentle with the girl, or else she'll break! Break! Does he not know?!

The male bends down and roughly grinds his clothed waist against the girl's own while greedily palming her chest.

From what must be the deepest part of Jacs' soul, a haunting moan issues from his throat. It gradually rises into a series of soul-rending, nightmarish screams that shake the very walls.

The male immediately stops his advances but it is too late. Too late. The male's touch was unwelcome. Attempted to claim her, to hurt her… had hurt her. She's hurt because of this male, this male who'd completely ignored his claim, his scent. This male. Death is the only punishment.

Jacs bares his teeth and continues to shout, the sounds pouring from his throat with wretched rage. His feet dig into the thick concrete flooring and then he's leaping forward, slamming into the clear wall. His claws leave deep gouges in the wall as he slides down it, producing terrible noises from his chest. So close, he can see her more clearly.

Red. There's red. Red in her soft hair. Red sliding down her soft skin. Her red. Everywhere, everywhere… red. All he sees is red. He frantically watches her through the clear wall then raises his gaze to find the male. The weak, small male jumps violently when his golden gaze meets his own. "Please..." the male whimpers as he moves away from her. Jacs stares at him then back at the girl.

Red. Red. She's so small, slumped against the ground like that, leaking red. Jacs' chest rises and falls rapidly as his vision bleeds red red red red. He roars and hurls his shoulder against the clear wall. The male squeals, alarmed, further encouraging Jacs' bloodlust. Over and over and over he slams into the clear wall. He roars and with one final shove the wall shatters beneath his weight.

The male screams, loud and high, and huddles into the corner away from her, throwing his arms up in a submissive gesture. But it is too late for that. Too late. Only death. For spilling her. For touching her. For hurting her…he hurt her, hurt her… Jacs prowls into the small room and pauses beside the girl. She whimpers softly when he dips his head against her neck, rubs his face against her to replace the male's foul scent.

"Oh god... oh god... I don't want to die. I don't want to die!" Jacs raises his head to steadily watch with predatory, evil eyes as the small male continues to drivel. The girl sighs softly and he instinctively purrs for her. He returns his attention to her for only a moment and stiffens when the scent of the male wafts from her body. He growls, his chest heaving with the force, and bares his teeth in a truly demonic facade. The male squeals and cries and tries to get away, but there's no escaping Jacs' rage.

He pounces, throwing all of his weight into his leap. The male's fragile body shatters beneath Jacs' force, his belly opens like paper below his claws, his throat crunches easily between his jaws, his eyes bleed red as Jacs' fist enters his ribcage and _pulls_ the slippery bones out. The male lays limp below him as thick red gushes down Jacs' throat. He takes deep, greedy pulls from the new corpse, relishing in it.

A sound, soft and gentle and sweet. So soft. So so so soft. Another one, a whimper. Her. The girl, the girl.

Jacs immediately turns from the male and hurries to her, hovers over her body. She's broken. Limp, weak, quiet. Her heart beats so fragilely. Jacs begins to purr for her, worried and strained. He lowers himself until his nose brushes her own, leaving a small smear of red against her skin. She's so small below him. Don't hurt her, don't hurt her. So fragile. Remember, so fragile.

"Jacs…" she breathes softly. His chest rumbles louder in response. She turns her head and presses the side of her cheek against his own. "Help me…" she croaks. How? How? His confusion manifests in a plaintive whine as his teeth stained red bare helplessly.

The girl groans and weakly maneuvers her arms. Slowly, ever so slowly, she raises them. Eager to aid her, he ducks under them, allowing them to loop around his neck. He purrs louder and tilts his head so that she might see his neck. Was this truly the time for her to exert dominance? But he wouldn't deny her a thing right now. Not when her heart flutters so weakly. "Pull me up…"

Wouldn't that hurt her? He can't hurt her. She's so fragile. Be gentle, remember, be gentle. His arms come around her, slowly, ever so slowly, cradling her weight and pulling her upward until she rests against his chest. She moans and settles into her new position and he purrs for her as she does. She rests her brow against his neck and he raises his chin to better accommodate her. Anything for her. Anything.

"Please," she whimpers against his skin, her lips brushing against him. "Please be able to understand me, Jacs." She takes a moment to catch her breath. Her sweet scent is made all the more enticing by the red that covers her. He drops his head and nuzzles her shoulder, basking in her warmth and scent. It's been so long. So long in the darkness. So long without her. He trails up alongside her neck and begins to lave up the red from her skin in rasping, languid swipes. " _Jacs_ ," she growls and he stiffens to attention. "Stand. Up." Up? Up? Jacs rumbles softly and bares his throat again. Why is she so aggressive? He's here now. The male is gone. She sounds so tired. Exhausted. "Please, understand me. I know you're in there… somewhere. Please help me." Her breath hitches then steadies.

Pain. She's in pain.

Stupid! So stupid! Jacs shakes his head as if waking from a dream. She's hurting! Sometimes he forgets… he can't remember… he forgets… how much does he forget? How much has he forgotten?

The red against her skin is beautiful.

"Jacs…"

She goes limp in his hold. For a moment, he panics. But the sound of her steady heartbeat soothes him. She's still here. But she's near. Near to the long dark.

_Death_.

Death? Oh, yes. That's what it's called. And she's in pain. What had she said? Up? He pulls her even closer, ever aware of the wounds decorating her body. A fresh flow of blood seeps from the back of her head despite his efforts and he whines plaintively. The male…

He hisses loudly and begins to snarl, turning his head to regard the newly made corpse. He wishes to hear it scream.

_Don't forget. Remember_.

Jacs shakes his head. She's hurt. The girl is hurt. Help her.

_Stand up_.

Jacs gathers his feet and slowly stands, taking a moment to find his bearings in this awkward position. He holds her small body close, stems the flow of her blood by cupping the back of her skull with his hand. So warm. He drops his head to her stomach, rubs his bloody face against her soft shirt.

_Don't forget. Help her. Remember._

He raises his head and shakes it like a dog then slowly, hesitantly takes a step. Help her.

\----

He doesn't know where he is. Every hall looks the same. He growls worriedly, looking every which way as he cradles her closer. Where is the sky? She'd be better under the sky. He hurries down every hall, scenting the air for any sign of a fresh breeze. Nothing but harsh scents that sting his nose. Nothing.

Nothing nothing nothing nothing but the old woman at the end of the hall. She is watching him with creased eyes that are slowly widening. "Young man!" she cries and begins to rush forward. "What happened?! Is that Josie? Why is she so bloodied?!"

Jacs begins to growl softly. Foolish creature, rushing him. She's not his. She shouldn't be near. The girl is too weak to be in the presence of others. His teeth begin to bare.

_Be gentle._

Why? Why?

_Be quiet._

Jacs reluctantly swallows his growl and heeds the sedate voice in his mind. "And where's your shirt, young man?" The old woman peers up at him with a baffled expression. He shifts his feet nervously under her gaze as he pulls the girl closer to himself. "Never mind. Come, bring her. Quickly!" The woman turns around and rushes into a room.

Jacs whines plaintively and looks over his shoulder, gazing across the hall. What should he do? The girl whimpers softly, her voice filled with agony. He immediately turns back to her, holds her closer and soothes her with a purr, presses his mouth against her neck.

_Follow the woman. Go. Remember, be gentle. Remember, be quiet._

Jacs allows himself one last glance behind him, then reluctantly carries the girl into the room, heeding the stern voice that speaks strange commands inside his mind.


	13. Chapter 13

Pain when she awakes. Pain when she breathes deeply, when she flinches against the shot bolting across the back of her head. Pain. Throbbing. Undulating. Thrumming, gently across her shoulder. Purring.

Josie's eyes flutter open, staring blearily first at the overhead lights buzzing constantly. She watches for a moment before noticing the soft pressure against her shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turns her head. A shaggy mane of black locks draped across her chest, a brow pressed thoroughly against her shoulder. Her hunter, purring for her, muted against her shirt. He sits above her, draped over her like a lazy cat.

Sluggishly, she disentangles her hand from the thin sheets tucked around her, then raises it to bury her fingers into his hair, gently petting his neck. Immediately, his purring raises in volume and he lifts his head. Golden eyes take her breath away. His expression is so serious, a pinch between his brows revealing his tension.

"Jacs," she greets, smiling softly. He blinks slowly at the sound of her voice. She stares- there's an intelligence in those eyes that have been hidden from her for so long.

He begins to lean forward and for a moment she panics, eyes widening. He's closing in, his face slowly approaching her own. She sucks in a breath and holds it.

At the last possible moment, he turns his face away and instead tucks it against her neck. She feels foolish as a red blush overtakes her cheeks. She dares not ponder over what she'd been expecting, nor the quickened beating of her heart.

Josie looks about the small room. It's her room. How in the world had Jacs gotten her here? For the moment ignoring the cannibal purring against her neck, she raises her other hand and gently probes the back of her head, flinching when she brushes against the tight ridges of stitches there. Surely Jacs didn't…

Immediately she tenses, her toes curling and her thighs squeezing together.

Jacs only purrs harder and digs his teeth deeper into her neck, his long canines pinching the skin almost to the point of tearing. She begins to stutter when his hand raises to hold the other side of her neck, his tense fingers keeping her still as he slowly drapes his form over her own. The moment she feels the hints of his tongue against her she startles violently, her leg finding its way out of the covers to dig firmly into his stomach, sending him stumbling into the wall with a bang. She sits up gasping and holding her neck as her whole face flushes red, her heart racing and a peculiar clenching in her abdomen making her feel faint.

"J-J-J-! No!"

He sits slumped against the wall, his head tilted not at her but at the door, though she notices his own chest is falling and rising rapidly.

The handle creaks and in putters Nancy, her grey locks frizzy and loose from their usual prim bun. "You better not be sitting in the bed again mister or I will- oh, Josie! You're awake!"

Josie can only gape wordlessly, turning wide eyes from Nancy to Jacs, who stares intently at the old nurse. "Nancy? Are you- um, are you ok?"

Nancy goes to the small sink and fills a cup with water. Josie slowly sits back. "I'm so confused", she mutters, hesitantly accepting the water Nancy hands her and downing it in a few gulps.

Nancy nods sagely. "Well darling, that makes two of us. What happened to you?"

"I was… I don't quite…" Josie's eyes flutter as visions rampage through her mind. Emotions of inescapable fear, of helplessness, takes her breath away. She bares her teeth and drops her head as the panic sets in. "Where is he-? Where is Co-…" She cannot bring herself to say that wretch's name. From the corner of her eye, Jacs stands to his full height and slowly makes his way to stand over her, a sturdy and solid presence. He doesn't move to touch her, doesn't even purr, and Josie realizes it is because he is watching Nancy so intently as if she were a threat. For the first time, she notices the dried blood staining his face, throat, and chest. Brief flashes of glass shattering and a comforting, weighted warmth pressing against her. It had been Jacs. He'd saved her. Again. With relentless force, she pushes away the creeping feeling of panic the thought of that awful man brings her.

"This young man carried you to me. He refuses to speak a word, however." Nancy tuts. "Perhaps you can get him to speak? He's refused to leave your side these past two days. When he first brought you to me, you were on death's door." Nancy slowly comes closer to Josie, and stops just short of resting her hand on her shoulder, throwing a cautious glance Jacs' way. "Between you and me," Nancy stage whispers, "I thought he was going to tear me a new one every time I touched you… is he, y'know, right in the head?"

Josie stares at the old woman, then at the hunter, then back again. "You don't… no, nevermind… gods." It was for the best Nancy didn't recognize Jacs' true nature. She probably would have immediately alerted the guards. It must be a combination of Nancy's poor eyesight and wandering mind that blurred his true identity. Besides, who'd expect an infected to carry a bleeding girl around in its arms?

"No," Josie grunts, cringing against the flash of pain radiating through her skull. "He's just… quiet. A bit enigmatic."

"Whoever is he? I've never seen him before," Nancy mutters, staring at the large man hovering over the prone girl.

Josie thinks quickly, blurting out the first answer that comes. "Ah, he was admitted at the same time I was. He's my… partner. We came here together. Yes! They've just been keeping him in a separate section all this time. His name is Jacs." Her hunter tenses at his name, and she thoughtlessly reaches out to caress his side.

The old nurse watches the motion and hums critically. Then, slowly leaning forward and keeping her eyes set on the hunter, she whispers, "Did he do this to you? I can have the guards here in a second flat."

"No!" Josie hears the faint stirrings of her hunter's growl and again she caresses him, reaching out and holding his wrist in her hand in case he lunges. "No," she says more sedately. "Actually, ah, you're gonna think this is ridiculous but… I fell." Josie laughs self-deprecatingly.

Nancy cocks an eyebrow and Josie's quick to continue. "Luckily, though, Jacs was there! Probably would have bled out where I was but… he saved me!"

For the longest moment, Nancy stares, and Josie's sure that the old woman knows, can smell the poorly concocted lie. But then… "Oh, you silly girl. How clumsy! Well then, young man-" Nancy reaches out and slaps Jacs' shoulder. Josie's heart jumps into her throat and she quickly hisses his name under her breath when he makes the faintest of lunges forward. He considers her, his nose crinkling in annoyance. Honestly, Josie is annoyed too. Here Nancy was, pushing and challenging an apex predator foolishly. If only she knew….

Josie crinkles her nose and looks down at herself, cringing when she notices what's causing the sticky, itchy sensation against her skin. Dried blood- her own.

Nancy sighs softly and crosses her arms, sending a dirty look at the hunter. "Like I said, your 'partner' here wouldn't let me too close. So I did what I could and got as far away as possible. No time to wash you- I'm sorry."

Josie shakes her head and reaches out, grabbing Nancy's wrinkled hands in her own. "No. You saved me. Never be sorry. Thank you, Nancy, from the bottom of my heart."

Nancy smiles widely and pinches Josie's cheek. "Of course, darling. Oh, so adorable!"

She smiles for a long moment then makes a face. "I'd like a shower now…"

\---

Josie huffs and irritably blows a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "No," she growls, animatedly baring her teeth so the hunter will understand. "You can't come with me." He merely cocks his head at her aggression.

Nancy titters behind him, grabbing onto his shoulders and pulling as Josie pushes against his chest, trying and failing to shove him back into the room so that she might leave to take a shower. "I'll be back in an hour at most! You. Can't. Come." She punctuates her words with forceful shoves. She might as well have been trying to push a boulder up a mountain. He purrs softly, ducking his head to look at her.

She finally groans and slumps forward into the hunter's chest, her wound throbbing with her quick heartbeat. Resigned, she glares up at him. He tilts his head, clueless, but for the briefest of moments, so quick that Josie is absolutely sure she imagined it… the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. No. No, she definitely imagined that. No way did a hunter have that right to be… cute. No. Hunter's don't smile. Infected. Don't. Smile. Josie's mortified at the very thought and hastily shoves away from him. "Fine! Whatever! You need a bath anyways… you smell like rust."

She huffs away, Jacs quick to follow, dismissing Nancy's voice that floats after them. "Oh, goodness. You two better be careful! Young man, you be chaste, y'hear?!"


	14. Chapter 14

Josie looks around both corners before rushing across the hall. The hunter hurries with her, refusing to leave even an inch of space between them. He's tense beside her, taking in the lights and tiled floor and the sounds of laughter from deeper within the halls. His shoulder presses gently into her own as he looks about, his own way of knowing she's close and unharmed without having to take his eyes from the interesting surroundings.

She doesn't mind his clinginess- in fact, she's grateful for his solid warmth and immovable presence, the feel of poised muscle and strong-as-steel bones tensed and ready to spring.

He makes a soft, curious hum when from down the hall two men appear, chatting amiably together. His head tilts at their chattering, then with an abruptness that takes her breath away, he shoves her to the side with his shoulder, crowding into her and removing her from the sight of the other two males by using his larger frame.

She shushes his building growl by wrapping her arms around his own and jerking him forward and into another hallway. "All of this for a shower," she mutters as Jacs resumes his position at her shoulder, now leaning almost bodily into her as he checks their surroundings with newfound intensity.

Finally, the make it to the stainless steel door that leads to the showers. She presses a hand to his bare, bloody chest, holding him back as she checks for any occupants within the showers.

"Alright, quickly." She hurries him inside then closes the door behind them both, being sure to flip the solid lock. Odds are, nobody would be on the prowl for a shower this late at night, but best to be safe when a hunter is involved.

Jacs' golden eyes narrow against the bright lights as she passes him, brushing reassuring fingers down his side as she does. "It's ok," she soothes. His head still tilts every which way at all of the new stimuli, but eventually seems to decide there are no threats to be found in the sterile room. He slides to a crouch, wrapping his arms around each other and watching her hurry around the stalls, collecting miscellaneous bottles of shampoo and soap.

She deposits them at one certain stall then pauses, turning to look at Jacs. He's intensely focused on the slow plip plop of a leaking showerhead, his eyes following their fall to the tiled floor with an awed look. "Don't you remember showers?" she asks him softly. At the sound of her voice, he gives her his full attention, a reassuring purr beginning to rumble from his chest.

"Ok… don't freak out…" she cautions, the slowly turns the faucet. When water roars out, he visibly jumps, his head leaning back and his canines appearing under a curled lip. In almost the same moment, he's moving towards her, intent on getting her away from what must be a strange new beast to him.

Josie sees him coming and quickly ducks into the spray with her clothes still on. "No no no," she giggles. "See? I'm fine." She cups her hands and splashes her face with the warm water.

Jacs rumbles interestedly, pacing a fair distance from the spray, though not so far as to be unable to reach her should she cry out.

Reassured for the moment that he wouldn't let out an inhuman screech to wake the whole hospital, she tilts her head back and allows the water to thread its way through her hair. She hisses softly when the wound in her head throbs, but the pleasure of becoming clean overrides the pain.

By now, her shirt and pants are sopping wet. Without much ado, she tosses them off with a wet slap, leaving her in her underwear and bra.

She washes her hair and body with rigorous precision, scrubbing at every inch of skin until it's red and raw. All of a sudden, from somewhere deep and unknown inside her, her vision wavers and briefly darkens. She shakes her head and wills it away, startled. It goes slowly, creeping away from her vision.

Light-headed and startled, she slowly sinks to the floor. It's when she's distractedly reaching for the conditioner that it hits again. Her whole body begins to tremble and shake, vibrating with repressed tension. Her hands raise and fist into her hair. What is this? She's never felt so lost, so untethered. Is this because of the wound?

Her teeth chatter as she holds her arm tightly to her chest, curling into herself and dropping her head to her knees as the spraying water showers over her back.

It begins as a soft whisper of a sound. Fine and warbling and gasping. The sob builds in her chest, rising and rising until bursting like a wave upon a beach, a gasping and raw upheaval of emotion. Tears sting her eyes, running down her cheeks to mix with the water. Images run rampant through her mind of unwanted and unwelcome advances, of disgusting flesh pressed tightly to herself, of that man's smell… of his rough handling of her breasts, the way he'd ground their hips together. She twists against herself and chokes on her gasping sob. She feels disgusting.

For a moment she can't breathe, leaving room for the sound of the running water to take hold. But there's something more. Something deeper, throatier, primal and rushed. Straining her eyes, she peeks to see Jacs pacing quickly before her.

The moment he realizes he has her attention, he stops and drops his head to her eye level, having to hunch his shoulders to do so. She hiccups and holds her arms closer. At her silence, he hums then makes a sound that breaks through her tortured mind that is in the midst of shock.

He croons.

Like a mother would to a child, like a bird would from the forest. Though his is throaty and deep, its sing-song in nature, and as plaintively worried a sound a creature could ever make. It makes her heart swell.

Roughly dragging a hand over her eyes, she skootches forward on her rear, keeping her head down and throat presented.

This is no challenge for dominance- she has no interest in that right now.

All she seeks is comfort, and he's only too eager to provide it.

The moment she's clear of the spray, and clearly communicates she's receptive to his approach, he stalks forward and basically melts around her. His face presses close against her neck, crooning softly against her ear. His arms wind around her, his shoulders curling forward. Josie is almost invisible, cradled as she is by the massive male presence. The wet of her clothes makes the shock of his warm bare chest against her stomach more palpable. She savors the sensation as she slowly releases the pain and shock and terror. That man is dead now. He's dead. He will never touch her ever again… thanks to Jacs.

She sighs and, in an uncommon and unfamiliar need to show affection to another, she raises her face and nuzzles closer into his chest, so closely that her lips press to the skin of his neck. He tenses just slightly. Here, she can feel his pulse against her lips. It's fast, uncommonly so. And his warmth… it's very nearly toe-curling. She breathes out slowly, releasing her fears and settling bonelessly against him.

It's only when she blissfully opens her eyes that she remembers the smeared blood that coats his entire front. She cringes, wrinkling her nose. "Come here," she breathes, moving forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. At first, he resists, sitting back and easily refuting her persistent nudges with his own, larger frame. Eventually though, after countless pulls and whispered encouragements, he allows her to drag him underneath the spray of the shower.

He goes completely rigid in her arms, the extensive muscles in his chest tensing completely. His teeth bare as he stills, desperately fighting what must be his instinct to flee.

Instead, amazingly enough, he leans further forward while pressing her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head so as to take the brunt of the fall of water.

"Silly," she smiles, pulling away and running fond fingers down the front of his throat, "this is something I don't need protecting from."

He croons again, the sound dying in his throat when she begins to thread her fingers through his hair. His golden eyes glaze slightly and his head drops into her hands. She begins to laugh, delighted with this new discovery: Jacs likes his hair played with. "Then you'll love this," she grins as she sits up on her knees in order to reach him. His arms slide loosely down her body to loop at her waist, allowing her these small movements but with the ability to pull her back should she stray away.

She empties the shampoo bottle into her hand. He purrs quietly, but the moment she begins to rub the product into his hair and lather it up, it's an uproarious thrumming hum that makes her bones vibrate. "You like that, don't you?"

She scratches behind his ear and his head falls limply against her breasts in bliss, a thrumming groan escaping him. Josie tenses, but instead of the panic she'd thought to feel, a fire flickers to life in her stomach.

He's still purring, unaware of their precarious position. Blushing, she shakes her head and resumes scrubbing his ebony locks. Mind out of the gutter, Jo!

She threads her fingers into his hair and grips the back of his neck, pulling him forward and deeper into the fall of the shower. As the suds float away, she reaches out and covers his eyes for him, soothing his startled grunt with a lilting shush. His arms raise in his blindness and he curls his hands over her shoulders, reaffirming she's close.

"Alright." She pulls her hands away and smiles up at him as he blinks away water from his eyes then stares down at her.

"Will you smile for me again?" she wonders. "I swear you did it earlier."

He tilts his head.

"Smile?" Being sure not to show her teeth, her lips spread pleasantly.

He blinks back at her.

She reaches up and brushes his hair away from his face, running her nails over his scalp and making his eyelids immediately fall halfway, coaxing a heady purr from him. "No worries. I'll get one out of you one day."

By now, all of the blood is washed away with the water, but still she pours body wash into her hands then begins to soap up his chest. He stares down at her ministrations curiously, his skin vibrating with the force of his purring. "Who knew hunters could be so lovey-dovey?" she coos as she spreads the soap over his collarbones and shoulders. He leans into her touch, further and further until she's plastered flush with the wall. She blinks, pausing as she reorients herself to the sensation of his overheated skin pressed against hers. She rubs her thighs together, shifting against the fluttering feeling that is awakening in her and increasing in strength.

She breathes in deeply then recovers herself. Taking the opportunity, she reaches around him and rubs suds over the impressive expanse of his back, savoring the play of muscles and weighty shoulder bones, biting her lip.

A sudden shiver passes through her, making her tremble against his body. He stills completely, seemingly ignoring the way she's rubbing his back.

"Jacs?" She pats his side a few times as the water washes the soap from him. Concerned, she begins to pull away.

With the suddenness of a strike of lightning, Jacs shoves himself forward, using his own hips to part her thighs and settling himself directly against the thin cloth covering her center, his pants and her underwear the only barriers. She gasps and jolts against the electricity that shoots up her spine.

His claws dig into her hips as he pulls her closer, closer, impossibly closer to himself. She groans as the tingle roars into an inferno with this newfound friction. Too preoccupied with her arousal to worry over the morality, even the safety, of their current position, she utters a strangled moan and snaps her hips in a rolling motion, reveling in the gratifying friction that ignites her. She continues to roll her hips in frantic motions, digging her nails into his broad shoulders and leaving long lines of bleeding scratches.

Jacs allows her to move against him for a moment, looking down at their writhing hips before he growls sharply and shoves her down, tearing her away from him.

She jolts against the shock of pain that briefly flares as she's pushed hard into the tiled floor. She tenses up and begins to sit up, on the cusp of beginning to process what is suddenly happening, but he wraps his hands around her wrists and presses them beside her head, making her fall back to the floor.

He's hovering over her, completely blotting out the ceiling with his impressive build. His molten eyes are glazed, crazed, shimmering with lust as he looks down at her.

She feeds off of the shock of pain from her wound that only heightens her pleasure, and strains her hips towards his own. She doesn't have time to think about this. No, not right now. She'll do that later. Later. Right now, all she wants is him. "Jacs," she groans pleadingly, breathless and wanton and not the least bit ashamed. "Please, please," she tries to lift her hands to touch him but he's not having any of it, growling and shoving her hands back down. He stares into her wild eyes then suddenly snarls and drops his head, using his unnaturally long canines to tear away her bra, freeing her moistened breasts to his view. He purrs appreciatively and nuzzles her soft mounds, rasping his tongue underneath them then taking a rosy tip into his mouth. He suckles heatedly as the female below writhes and whines, her head falling back as she raises her chest to him for better access, encouraging his efforts. He switches to her other breast, a line of saliva clinging between his lip and her nipple.

She trembles, mad in her lust, shouting when he nips the underside of her breast. He snarls back at her, then sucks at her nipple again, so hard as to be painful. It only makes her want him more. She strains her hips up, wrapping her legs around his waist and trying to drag him closer to her core but he resists.

"Damnit, you stupid hunter, more," she mindlessly snarls, straining against his restrictive hands and sinking her teeth deep into the crook of his shoulder. He jolts against her, making a deep and primal noise that is muted when he returns the favor, leaning down and sinking his teeth into her shoulder.

Josie's mouth opens as she screams soundlessly. He's wild, dropping himself over her and finally, finally providing pressure against where she needs it most, snapping his hips quickly against her.

The cloth rubs against her clitoris in the most mind-numbing of ways, his canines buried in her neck enhancing her pleasure. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth as she wildly rubs herself against the prominent bulge in his soaked sweatpants. More, more. She's climbing, her orgasm approaching with the intensity and speed of a freight train. Their movements are made easier by the slickness soaking her underwear. "Nnngh.. Jacs," she pants, moaning with his every thrust. His chest rubs against her own, her hardened nipples sliding over his pecs.

Closer, closer, closer. She shakes her head back and forth, lost as her orgasm quickly builds with every moist thrust. Her legs are clamped shut around his hips, making their movements stilted and awkward and increasing the franticness of it. It's rough and quick and utterly primal in nature, two snarling animals rutting.

He snaps his hips roughly against hers and bites down harder, a tell-tale pop as his fangs penetrate her taut skin. She comes with a shrill scream that echoes, and as her blood rushes into his mouth he roars against her neck and erratically thrusts along her core. He trembles then stills, holding himself over her twitching body.

Breathless, she holds his hands tightly as he slowly lowers himself over her, boneless. He disentangles his teeth from her throat then soothes the red wound with soft strokes of his tongue between his heavy panting. Finally, she's able to free one of her hands. She reaches up and threads her fingers through his hair as he rests his cheek against her bosom.

He hums a purr and holds her closer as she smooths his hair and caresses the relaxed muscles of his back. His head raises wearily and he slowly trails his nose up her neck and over her jaw.

She slowly opens her eyes to look up at him, reveling in his golden depths. He purrs softly, then with the barest of twitches, the corner of his mouth moves briefly into a smile.

Laughing softly, she smiles back, for the moment ignoring the reality of what they'd just done.


	15. Chapter 15

He can smell her. Her pheromones, announcing to the world her heat, her plight in a wafting amalgamation of the most beautiful scents he can imagine. Like those tiny yellow flowers that dot the grassy ground. Like the sweet, cool smell that rushes from a gently trickling stream. Fresh, growing things that make his throat vibrate in pleasure.

And she's his.

She'd accepted him, had pulled him closer. His scent is now coating her, tendrils of himself weaving through her own. Now they'd all stay away from her. Those foul males will keep their hands off. They'll know that a predator has claimed her. That an alpha looks over her.

She's his, and now everyone will know.

The girl had brought him new coverings. He'd been reluctant to release her from underneath him, but she'd ultimately resolved to scrambling on the tiled floor and punching his shoulders until he finally moved off of her. She'd scampered to a stall kept separate from the rest of the brightly lit room and returned with white cloth that she'd hastened to shove over him, not even bothering to give him time to dry.

The girl seems bothered for some reason. She disappeared once more and returned with new coverings of her own. New coverings that smelt nothing like him. He quickly slinks to her side, dropping his shoulder and dragging his side along her legs like an overly affectionate cat.

But she steps away.

He tries to croon to her as she crouches before him, staring into his eyes critically. She reaches for his face and he tilts his head; the girl has an odd fascination with that particular area- an area his instincts demand to generally avoid. But if she wishes to touch him, she'll get no complaint from him.

Instead, though, she reaches over him and grabs the hood of his bright new covering, then shoves it over his head. Annoyed with her rough handling, he allows a soft growl to radiate from him as he slinks backwards from her. What is wrong with his female?

***

He stalks beside her, his side pressed tightly against her thigh as they walk through the halls, back to the room that smells of her. Every so often, she trips over his broad form, catches herself upon his shoulder. Instead of a reprimand, though, she merely straightens and continues on, her face blank. What is wrong with her?

He attempts to comfort her, crooning softly as he stares up at her worried eyes. She glances down at him for a second, eyes softening only momentarily, then back up.

The noises die in his throat and he retreats into just as contemplative a silence as she.

A few turns, left, right, right, left, and another left and by then he's had enough of this tension that fouls her scent so. When she moves to take another step, he hooks her ankle with his hand and sends her stumbling forward.

She catches her balance at the last moment then turns a quick glare at him. "What was that?" she hisses. He bares his teeth in return and arches his back. Anger. Anger anger anger she's beginning to make him snarl and growl. Why? Why is she punishing him with her silence?

The female throws her hands up in dismissal and walks past him. Just as she's about to leave his side, though, he once more snags her foot from under her. This time, she's unable to regain her footing. She tumbles to the ground with a grunt, her teeth clicking hollowly together as her chin bounces off the linoleum. "Bastard-" she begins to growl, gathering her elbows under her and propping her torso up as she cranes her neck around to glare daggers at him.

Haughtily, he slinks past her, pausing to drop his side into her own and once more rubs himself against her like a cat. When he reaches her glaring face, he pauses to nip sharply at her neck then continues on down the hall, back to her room.

***

Just before he shoulders his way through her door, she grabs his shoulder and reels him back.

"Stand up," she demands, pulling at his arms pointedly. He decides to humor her, allowing her to position his body as she sees fit. After many uncomfortable prods and fingers in his sides, he's more or less standing like a normal human being, albeit one with terrible posture.

His female sighs and runs a hand through her hair, straightens her new coverings then opens the door.

"Oh, sweetie! I'm so glad you're back! I was getting ready to come get you! Apparently one of those leapers has escaped-"

The old woman's gravelly voice grates along his sensitive hearing and he quickly tunes her out. He cringes and begins to drop himself into a crouch, intending to cover his ears with his arms, when his female hooks an arm through his own and ensures he remains standing. Isn't this as uncomfortable for her as it is he? He groans softly, his body not made to be in this particular stance for too long.

His teeth bare in his grimace, long incisors glinting in the light. His female begins to say something and he quickly takes refuge in her dulcet tones. She speaks as smoothly as the river she smells like. He turns his head toward her, dropping his hooded face into the crook of her neck and leaning bodily into her as his muscles twinge irritably.

The old human's voice begins to raise, dragging sharply upwards and hurting his hearing all the same, as if she were screaming right into his eardrums.

He presses closer to his female, moaning his discomfort and seeking her warmth. When was the last time he'd eaten? When when when…?

Too long.

The woman continues to shout and shrill while the girl tries to speak over her in her trickling, cool voice. Now the woman is giving off the putrid waves of fear that make the predator within him stir. He stiffens against his female and raises his head slowly, zeroing in on the racing pulse point against the woman's neck.

The old woman smells of salt, thick runny tracks cascading down her leathery face. His gaze darts between the woman and his female, searching for a signal. With a hating, spiteful glare, the old woman spits something at his female, who immediately stiffens. He mimics her, his hackles rising as he begins to prepare his muscles. Something is amiss, and it's obvious the old woman is to blame for it.

His female suddenly bares her teeth.

It's all the encouragement he needs.

With a raging shout, he rips his arm from hers then throws himself forward with inhuman strength, leaving dents in the floor from where he pushes off.

The elder crumples under his body, fragile bones crunching and shattering as they land against the wall. Immediately, she goes limp beneath him, her back bent at an unnatural angle. His teeth enter her neck with ease and though the taste is absolutely rancid, he gulps her life force down all the same, ravenous for satiation.

His fingers curl into claws while he straddles the woman, tearing her stomach open easily and throwing her intestines around the room as rotten blood dribbles down his throat. He stains the once pristine walls a bloody, terrible red as his female screams behind him, though the only noise he cares for at this moment is the grating crunch of bones between his teeth.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends. Sorry I've been gone so long! Hopefully future chapters will be longer. If y'all have a request of me regarding Jacs and Josie, don't be shy! They are ALL of our cute puppets ;) We'll make them dance together

The hunter nearly throws the door open before she has time to catch him. Grabbing hold of his new black hoodie, she hauls him back. Pulling at his arms and cradling his elbows, she urges him to stand.

If Nancy saw him trot into the room like a hunter… Even to one as blind as Nancy, the signs would be impossible to miss.

He wobbles and shakes and even reaches out to catch her arm, clearly uncomfortable with the upright position. As she helps to steady him, she nods once. This is as good as it will get.

With a deep breath that does little for her nerves, she gently opens the door.

"Oh, sweetie! I'm so glad you're back! Apparently one of those leapers escaped and the whole building is in lockdown. Come in, come in."

Josie is forced to nudge Jacs further into the room so she can shut the door. He awkwardly steps forward, teetering back and forth and finding balance when she places her hand against his lower back.

Nancy is fretting across the room, worrying her hands together. "Can you believe this?" she asks. "We are supposed to be free from worrying about this sort of thing. It's not supposed to happen here!"

Jac's attention is clearly fleeting as he begins to lower himself, obviously intent on returning to his crouch.

As fast as she can without seeming strange, Josie threads her arm through his larger one and jerks him back to a semi-straight posture then turns to address the fretting woman.

"Nancy, you need to calm down. No point in stressing yourself- I'm sure they'll catch it soon…"

Josie's breath stops short when a cold nose is pressed against the side of her neck. A puff of warm air makes her shiver and then he's leaning into her side, groaning softly.

Nancy pauses to stare at Jacs. "What's wrong with him?" she asks sharply. "Is he sick?"

"He's not sick, just-"

"Then what's wrong with him? Why is he making those noises?"

Jacs presses closer to her, his inhuman strength making her take a step to the side with him. He roughly drags his face against her neck then moans. Josie stiffens, not even daring to breathe…

His voice… it's so terribly inhuman. A deep baritone under which a growl resides. It's so… alien. So… infected.

Nancy's chest heaves. "Josie…" she begins, "what in god's name have you done…"

"Nancy, whatever you're assuming is wrong. Just-"

"Then make him talk! Make him talk right now or so help me-!"

They're silent as Josie can only stare at the old woman.

"My god," Nancy whispers, raising a hand to her mouth and stepping back. "That's the leaper, isn't it? Oh my god!"

The old woman turns then whirls back around, raising her hands in supplementation as she speaks with a crazed edge. "What in the heavens were you thinking? You stupid, stupid little girl! You stupid girl!"

Tears coursed down leathery cheeks as she raises a shaking finger then spits out a lashing remark. "You're nothing but the undead's whore."

Josie stiffens as if she were struck.

Perhaps it's from her time spent in Jacs' company, or perhaps it is her own baser instinct making its presence know. Whatever it is, it makes her draw her lips back and bare her teeth like an angry dog.

And it's like a bomb going off. One moment, her hunter is leaning against her and depending on her for balance. The next, he's flying across the room and crushing poor Nancy beneath his superior strength. The elderly woman is like a paper ball being crumpled as her head hits the wall with a sickening crunch. Blood flows out of her to stain the floors she'd worked so hard to keep clean. And then… and then…

Jacs is… eating her.

Unbidden, a terrible scream leaves Josie. Trembling, she turns and retches in between her gasps for air. Raising a trembling hand she wipes her mouth and plugs her ears of the terrible crunching and snarling.

Shaking, she makes it to the corner and there she collapses. Raising her knees to her chest, she curls in on herself, dropping her head into her hands.

What has she done? This is her fault… all of this. What was she thinking, toting around an infected and allowing him to be around a haven for survivors? How could she let this happen…?

Her stomach rebels again, but there's nothing to come up. She's empty.

Nancy's death is Josie's fault. Her blood is on her hands.

If she had just killed him when she had the chance. But…

A soft touch against her shoulder makes her sigh.

Before her blurry vision, golden eyes appear, followed by a straight nose and a strong chin. He's sitting beside her, his face entirely covered in red and bearing the stench of copper. He parts his lips to croon softly. How could such a sweet sound come from one such as him?

He presses more insistently against her and makes another soft sound, cocking his head in apparent confusion of her little 'tantrum'.

Uncertainly, he looks around the room then back at her. Waiting a moment, he sighs in a very human-like way. Did he learn that from her? And then he's slowly, ever so slowly, raising his arm and gently, as delicate as a feather, draping it over her back. As she goes rigid, her brings her close to his side and drops his head to press the side of his jaw against her own.

His purrs make her world go fuzzy, wrapped in warmth and cradled in protection. Worries of Nancy drift away like the wind. Without her permission, her muscles relax and she leans into him, losing herself in the rhythmic thrum of his rattling purr. This close, she can feel his very chest vibrate. And beneath it all…

Beneath it all is a steady heartbeat.

Josie shivers, pulling back just an inch to stare into Jacs' golden gaze. He meets it unflinchingly.

Hesitating only a moment, she lowers her eyes and leans forward until their noses brush. He rumbles softly, tightening his hold on her.

With a humming purr of her own, she leans forward and allows the barest touch of her lips against his own, blood-stained ones. Leaning back, she considers him. Then she's kissing him again. He's still under her gentle pecks, only just barely turning his head further toward her to allow her better access.

Gripping his sharp jaw in her hand, she pulls away and revels in the electric shocks coursing up and down her spine.

Holding his gaze, she caresses his cheek with her thumb. "You're a monster," she whispers. His tongue darts out to lick his bloody lips as he hums softly at her words.

Leaning away as he begins to come closer, she holds him more sternly, impressing upon him the importance of her words. When his eyes flicker back up to her own, she smiles, her lips covered in Nancy's blood. "But I'm a monster right alongside you."


End file.
